Protect and Serve
by The Head Reviewer
Summary: Chuck Bass has just been assigned his first mission as 009: protect American heiress Blair Waldorf. Killers are coming after her and in hordes for jewels, weapons, and money she doesn't actually have. Why is Blair really being targeted and will Chuck be able to contain his growing attachment and affection?
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

* * *

Bodies.

There were bodies everywhere. Their abdomens were riddled with bullets. Pools of blood congealed around the corpses. A sea of red. Eyes remained open- glassy and staring off into nowhere. Blair whimpered. Her bottom lip trembled. She let out a scream and her hand flew up to cover her mouth. The entire room was littered with corpses and the debris from the furniture that had been destroyed by countless bullets.

Her stomach churned at the sight of all the mangled bodies and the smell of the blood was making her head spin. Blair closed her eyes as her mind began searching for ideas for what to do. She had been brought up to deal with a million situations, yet being surrounded by a dozen dead bodies had never been one of them. Tears started to drip down the sides of her face.

"Oh God, what do I do?" Blair cried, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "What do I do, what do I do?" Blair repeated over and over again. Her knees got weak and unable to support her own weight, she fell to the floor. She landed in a pool of blood and found herself collapsed over one of the dead bodies. Blood went everywhere. It dampened the ends of her hair and stained her skirt. She raised her blood-covered hands to her face in shock. Blair began to shriek with horror as she frantically tried to wipe the blood from her hands onto her blouse.

There was a buzz. Blair froze at the sound of someone's phone ringing on silent. She felt the buzzing coming from the body she had fallen on to. Adjusting her body position to be facing the body, she placed her hands under him and began trying to flip the corpse over. Blair finally managed to flip the body over to reveal the dead man's face. His eyes were dark and his expression angry. He wasn't one of her father's men. Still, she carefully lifted the front of his jacket and reached into the inner pocket.

Blair drew out the phone which continued to incessantly buzz. Caller ID flashed the name "Boss" across the screen. Blair quickly pressed down on the end-call button. The phone stopped buzzing. Blair closed her eyes again. She tried to take a deep breath but struggled to since her body kept shaking. She exhaled as slowly and steadily as she could before taking another breath. Eventually her breathing calmed and her heart rate returned to normal. Turning on the phone, Blair punched in the only numbers that came to mind.

_837-9266-1100_

"They're dead." The words flew out of Blair's mouth as soon as they answered.

"Confirm that the line is secure," the gruff voice on the other end replied.

"Did you not hear me? They're all dead!" Blair looked around the room, trying to identify the ones who had been assigned to protect her. She had known them for less than a week and never really studied their faces.

Still the voice on the other end asked again, "Agent, confirm that this line is secure!"

"I'm not an agent and I don't have time for your all your protocol, dammit. This is fucking Blair Waldorf and I'm telling you that all your men are dead!" Blair yelled into the phone. The loudness of her voice surprised her as her words echoed of the walls. An eery silence fell over the room reminding Blair that she was the only one alive. There were a few minutes of silence.

"Do not move your location. We are sending Air Evac right now."

The phone slipped from Blair's fingers and into a puddle of blood. Turning her head away from the body, Blair began to vomit.

* * *

"You were supposed to be promoted today."

A thin manila folder dropped in front of Chuck. _Top Secret _was stamped across the front in bright red ink. Chuck slid the folder closer to him and opened it. A smal square photo of him was attached to the left side with a paperclip. The picture was from almost five years ago when Chuck started off with a desk job. On the right side was a single sheet of typed paper. Chuck's eyes quickly scanned the page. Name, date of birth, height, weight, years active... the paper was just a profile. At the very bottom though, the last line was noticeably different to any profile of his that Chuck had ever seen.

_Status: 009_

Fucking hell. Double-O. Chuck could hardly believe it. Had he really just earned his place in the most elite branch of MI6 and the licence to kill? This was what all agents dreamed of. Chuck read it again and again. 009. It had a nice ring to it... He had only heard of a few double-O's, mostly through rumors. Their missions were dangerous and the identities of the agents were mostly kept hidden from the rest. Chuck paused.

"Wait, did you just say I was supposed to be promoted?" Chuck flipped the folder close, a sense of anxiety starting to gnaw at his insides.

M leaned back into his seat. "Well, if you hadn't failed your tests, maybe there would have been hope for you."

"That's bullshit, I passed all my tests." Chuck's mind recounted the most recent round of tests meant to assess his physical, mental, and medical health. He was in excellent shape and his marksmanship was practically flawless. It had been a waste of six hours but a new batch of tests were required every six months.

M bent over to open his file cabinet. He withdrew another folder, one marked with Chuck's name followed by _Test Results. _"While you passed your physical examination with ease and there has been no change in your medical condition, you did manage to somehow fuck things up with your psychological evaluation."

Chuck squinted, trying to remember the details of the mental test. Yes, there had definitely been more parts to the test last time. It irked him at the time that it was delaying the process but he had never thought of it afterwards. "What do you mean I failed my evaluation. I passed every other time, didn't I?"

"Well, you see, it seems you've developed some rather nasty habits over the years of being in the field. It says here that you display a lack of maturity, impulsiveness, and potentially addictive behavior. It's rather obvious why you can't be a double-O agent, isn't it?"

"So is that why you called me in? To tell me that I could've been double-O if it hadn't been for a stupid test? That if I hadn't made bad decisions out in the field, that I could've promoted?" Anger started to build up inside of Chuck.

"We can't risk any agent, especially one of double-O status, to be out in the field with such an abysmal mental evaluation. It's simply a liability this agency cannot afford."

"So, what are you just going to demote me then? Stick me back in the office?" Chuck looked down in shame, unable to make eye contact. "Father," his voice came out raspy. "Please, let me prove myself."

"No, you are not being demoted. And yes, I will let you prove yourself. As a double-O agent."

Chuck looked up.

M nodded. He tore the mental evaluation from the folder and held it over the rubbish bin. He set one of the edges on fire using a lighter and let the flame spread for a few seconds. He dropped the paper into the bin to finish burning.

"I hoep you realize that by doing this I am putting both myself and you at incredible risk."

Chuck nodded.

"Come in first tomorrow morning to receive your mission."

Chuck stood up and headed towards the door.

"And Agent 009..."

Chuck stopped and turned.

"...don't fuck this up."

_A/N: So, I may or may not have been very heavily influenced by the recent James Bond movie. I just couldn't bring myself to give Chuck 007 though. The thought of Chuck speaking in Ed's regular accent made up for it. Leave a review if you are inclined. x_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gossip Girl._

* * *

The people that came to help Blair were kind.

There was a Navy SEAL, with bright blue eyes and dimples, that had tried to smile and be somewhat cheerful despite the horrid circumstances. He came into the house running, weaving his way through the dead bodies. He told Blair that she could call him Trevor. With an older brother aura, Blair instantly felt safer in his presence. Trevor gave Blair a bandana so that she could cover her eyes. He then scooped her up in his arms and carried her outside the house. Blair could tell there were a lot more bodies than she had originally thought.

The medic was a young lady with a serious face. She didn't bother to introduce herself. Instead, she ran over to Blair as soon as Trevor set her down. She wrapped a shock blanket around Blair's body and began asking her a list of questions to check if she had any injuries. Blair shook her head over and over again. Afterwards, Blair was given a damp cloth to wipe her hands and face clean of the dried blood. Her clothes were still stained though and the blood that had once soaked the tips of her hair had become crusty.

Both Trevor and the medic helped Blair into the helicopter. They offered her hot coffee and saltines. Blair took a sip of the bitter coffee which burned her hands through the thin paper cup but didn't eat any of the saltines. A third person, a CIA agent, spoke to her in a slow voice as if she were a child. Blair nodded but didn't listen to what he was saying. Something about getting her to safety... or maybe something about polar bears.

* * *

"We were going to have you on the Dubai job but we have something much more important for you, 009."

Chuck had no what time it was but the sun had barely risen. All he knew that his head was throbbing from last night's celebration. He hadn't been able to tell anyone of his promotion so had resorted to drinking a couple beers by himself and then inviting Natalia, a Russian ex-gymnast, over to do some vodka shots. Apparently he had passed out before anything could happen since he woke up alone, fully clothed, and in recovery position. There was a bright red lip print on his forehead and a note taped to his bathroom mirror saying that there was aspirin and a glass of water waiting for him in the kitchen. In a hurry, Chuck had forgotten to take the aspirin and was still rubbing at the lipstick on forehead when M entered the office.

"Dubai?" Chuck didn't bother hiding his disappointment. According to rumor, the job in Dubai included taking down a high profile American expatriate who was supplying weapons to extremist groups in Oman. "What am I doing instead?" he asked cautiously, knowing M could very well be taunting him by refusing him the Dubai and instead giving him the most boring mission in the world.

"You've been assigned a job that is a matter of global security. You will be travelling to New York where you will be guarding and protecting one of the most valuable assets to MI6, the CIA, NATO, and just about every ally intelligence agency around the world."

"America? Why the bloody hell do they need me if they've got the CIA?" Chuck demanded to know, his brow furrowing. The last thing he wanted to do for his first mission as 009 was go to _America. _He wanted to go somewhere dangerous and foreign, like Dubai or Shanghai.

"There's been, um," M cleared his throat, "a possible breach of security at the CIA."

Chuck rolled his eyes and snorted. "Of course," he muttered under his breath. While he didn't want to be a believer nor an advocator of stereotypes, Chuck was questioning the intelligence of Americans. How the hell did the CIA allow things to get so bad that they had to borrow agents from MI6? This didn't seem like the average breach of security where a spotty seventeen year old had managed to find the one loophole into the security system or a tourist accidentally going into an off-limits room on a tour of the Pentagon.

"What exactly am I going to be guarding?" Chuck asked. This mission was sounding worse and worse with each passing minute. Guarding and protecting something? Really? Wasn't this the sort of thing rent-a-cops did? How much skill did it exactly require to watch over something?

M handed Chuck a folder. "It's not a what, but a who. Her name is Blair. Blair Waldorf. She's the twenty year old daughter of Harold Waldorf. She's his only child."

"Harold Waldorf? The tech giant?" Chuck had heard of Harold Waldorf numerous times before. It had been brought up a few times during his training and the techies down in research and development, the Q Division, practically worshipped the man. He was a genius having dedicated his entire adult life to writing complex computer algorithms to create sophisticated databases, programming firewalls, creating revolutionary systems of network security, and being a master at data encryption and just about every other aspect of computer science. "I didn't know he had a daughter."

"Yeah, well neither did 99% of the population. She's been tucked away at some boarding school in Switzerland this whole time. What's important now is keeping her safe. That is your mission. You must protect her from anything may harm her and eliminate any threats to her safety."

Rage boiled inside Chuck. Protect her? Couldn't she they just have hired a couple bodyguards? The girl was only twenty for Christ's sake. What was he supposed to do? He didn't want to babysit the damn child. "Is this punishment for something?" Chuck was still unable to fathom why he had been assigned such a stupid task.

M was irritated. He didn't want to have to deal with Chuck's childish antics. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head saying _I told you so! _in regards to Chuck's recent promotion. "While you may believe you are above this," M said coldly, "you should be pleased to know that if anything happens to Ms. Waldorf, this very organization may soon be nothing more than a failed agency for future generations to learn about. I assure you that watching her will not be a royal waste of your time. Her survival is of utmost importance."

Chuck cocked an eyebrow, challenging M. "Who exactly will be coming after her? And why?" What could anyone possibly want to do with a twenty year old girl who was studying in university?

"Only three people in the world know what I am about to tell you. Even the PM and the President of the United States don't know this. Harold Waldorf is dead. He was killed and we don't know who did it. MI6 made the mistake a long time ago of trusting Waldorf too much. He was loyal, yes, but MI6 and the CIA entrusted him with too many of our deepest secrets. He convinced intelligence agencies around the world to cooperate more, failing to realize the catastrophe that it may one day create. We are all too interrelated and integrated now. A breach at the CIA may mean a breach here at MI6 as well. If they go down, we all go down."

Chuck inhaled sharply. He had known that the CIA and MI6 had worked together on several occasions yet he had never known to what extent they had been connected. And Harold Waldorf dead? How could that even be, the man was probably only in his fifties at the latest. M handed Chuck a piece of paper. A picture was printed on regular copy paper and the colors bled into each other. The quality of the photo was poor and grainy but Chuck could just make out a face. Or what was left of a face. There was evidence of at least two- no, three- gun shot wounds: two shots in smack in the middle of the forehead and the other straight through the man's left eye. His right eye was puffed up and swollen, his face bloody and bruised, and the skin eaten away by what must've been concentrated acid. Those fuckers really messed with the poor bastard.

"Why the girl?" Chuck felt sorry for Harold Waldorf but still cursed the thought of actually being assigned this mission. He should be out in the field fighting against rogue agents and intercepting secret shipments of millions of dollars worth of drugs and taking down dictators, not babysitting. A rookie field agent could probably handle the job. He was a double-O agent now. He was above this. "You seriously can't be considering me to do the job-"

"You've already been assigned to this mission. It's about time you started learning to take orders. We believe she's the key."

Chuck hated vague answers. _She's the key. _What the fuck was that supposed to mean? If he was really going to have to do this, how was he supposed to do anything without knowing why he was doing it. What was the point then? "The key to what?"

"To everything."

Fuck that. Everything? How the fuck was she a key. What the fuck did that even mean. Why couldn't M just give him a straight answer. Was it really that hard to explain why the fuck he had to go all the way to America to watch this stupid girl. Fuck M.

"You'll be playing the role of her new boyfriend as your cover. You can pick up the details from Q before you leave. Your flight leaves in six hours. I'd start working on that American accent if I were you."

Fuck this mission. Fuck everything. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Chuck Bass, Agent 009, was having a pretty shitty start to the day.

* * *

"Baby, what are you doing? Why are you still up? Come back to bed." A tall woman stood at the doorway. She wrapped her silk robe around her slim waist, hugging her slightly shivering body. Her eyelids drooped with sleepiness.

A man sat at a computer, furiously typing. He shook his head, causing his unruly hair to fall into his eyes. "No. Not yet. I'm too close." A hand flew up to push his hair out of his face. "Almost there..." he mumbled under his breath.

The woman was a lot more interested now. She became awake and alert when she heard his words. She walked over towards him and hovered over him. Her arms snaked around his neck, resting them on his shoulders while her mouth pressed kisses against his temple.

A few minutes passed. And then, the typing came to a halt.

The screen went blank. The two of them held their breaths. A second later, Access_ Granted_ in greenflashed across the screen."Excellent," she whispered with a smirk, letting her teeth graze his earlobe and neck.

The man could hardly believe it. His hands lifted off the keyboards in awe.

"I'm in."

* * *

_A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There will be some actual Chuck and Blair interaction in the next chapter, I promise. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I can't reply to the anonymous reviews so to those people, thank you so much. I'm still in the process of replying to the other reviews but I wanted to get this chapter up as soon as possible. Sorry for all the 'fucks' towards the end of Chuck's part of the chapter... I think I used ten or so just in those few lines. Review if you'd like. Anyone want to try and guess who the two people at the end of the chapter were?_

_ ;)_

_x_

_THR_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything_

_A/N: I didn't mention it before and I don't know if it'll be a problem later on or anything but M is Bart Bass. M is more of the title for the head of MI6 in the Bond world, rather than the actual person's name._

* * *

The sun in New York was too strong. The people shoved and pushed past you because everyone had somewhere they had to be. Having been in America for about an hour, Chuck decided that it he had been in America long enough to say that he hated it. He did, however, enjoy driving in the Aston Martin Vanquish which M16 had graciously provided. Having paid more than a quarter of a million dollars for the sleek two door coupé, MI6 hoped to God that Chuck wouldn't wreck the car or drive it off a cliff. The British-made car resonated with Chuck, causing a very unusual feeling of homesickness.

The thought of being tethered to this Waldorf girl and not being able to go out on his own was excruciating. M instructed him to never let the girl out of sight, protecting her from whatever that may harm her. M had also promised to send more instructions depending on what intel they received since M wasn't even sure about Blair's role in the whole mess involving Harold Waldorf's murder and the subsequent security breach in the CIA. Chuck figured the girl wasn't even remotely relevant to anything going on.

Barely three days after receiving his promotion, Chuck was on his way to meeting Blair. Even her name was funny. Leave it to the Americans to take a traditionally masculine surname and make it a girl's first name. She was probably ugly, Chuck thought. With his luck, she'd probably be in desperate need of losing twenty pounds and lack the desire to look nice. And meeting at an indoor shooting range? What the hell was she doing hanging around at a shooting range for? Chuck couldn't choose which was worse: being stuck with an airhead Daddy's Little Girl or some extremely masculine freak who liked bear wrestling.

Chuck saw the building. He had driven for nearly an hour, traveling outside the city to somewhere else in the state. Chuck didn't really pay attention to where he was going. He preferred to just go where the GPS told him to. Chuck couldn't help but notice a chauffeured black Lincoln also parked and a two burly men standing at the entrance of the building. Talk about inconspicuous. Chuck rolled his eyes and parked his car. Sighing, he pressed down on the car key's lock button. The men at the door tried to stop him from entering, obviously not trusting the strange looking guy with a scowl on his face and expensive car.

"She's expecting me," Chuck stated simply, his fake American accent sounding awkward and forced. Still, they opened the door for him and Chuck made the effort to push past them.

Once he got inside and saw her, things started to look better. She was standing at one of the tables of the shooting range's small café, talking to two guys who were more interested in her cleavage than they were the football game that was playing on the television. She was tall with obscenely long legs. Her skin tight jeans hugged the soft curve of her slim hips perfectly and accented her well toned ass. She wore a low cut blouse which offered a very nice view of her perky breasts which weren't too big or too small. Just right. And her hair! Chuck had never been one to fuss over a girl's hair but goddamn this girl had gorgeous hair. The long blonde- almost golden- hair was slightly mussed (practically screaming _sex!_) with waves. Suddenly, this job seemed like it would be a lot more fun. Chuck walked up to the table, an undeniable spring in his step.

"Excuse me, you must be Blair," Chuck offered his hand to the stunning girl. "I'm Chuck Bass."

The girl turned to him with an apologetic smile. Her eyes were a dark blue, her lips and a cheeks a rosy pink. "I'm sorry. I think you've gotten me mixed up with my friend. My name is Serena van der Woodsen. I'm a friend of Blair's. She's just inside, practicing her shot. You must be Chuck, her new boyfriend right? So weird that she never mentioned you before. Follow me, I'll take you to her." Not-Blair blabbered on, not noting Chuck's visible disappointment. So the beautiful blonde wasn't Blair Waldorf. Just his luck, indeed.

Chuck followed Serena to the soundproof room just outside the shooting range. Serena handed Chuck earplugs and protective earmuffs but didn't put any on herself. Chuck slipped the earplugs in and the earmuffs over his head and entered the indoor shooting range. Real-Blair stood there, pistol in hand, aiming at a hanging paper target some fifteen yards away. She didn't notice him, too wrapped up in her own world. Blair pulled the trigger. The bullet missed the target. Chuck saw that only a few of her attempts had actually been on target and even then, they were in the very outer rings. He stared at the ground, unable to hide his smirk.

"Do you need something?" Blair had finally noticed him. Chuck looked up, his smirk disappearing instantaneously at the sight of her irritated expression. Her face was too basic, in Chuck's opinion. She had dark brown hair and dark brown eyes. She was shorter than her friend and lacked the blonde's perfect curves. She wasn't ugly but she wasn't pretty either. Just average.

Blair, too, was studying Chuck's face. She didn't want to admit it but there was something very handsome about the man. He had a sharp square jawline and high cheekbones. There was a mischievous glint in his dark brown eyes that could only be described as smoldering. His lips were quite lovely as well. They had a pretty shape and color to them. His arrogant glare and smirk was repulsive but Blair couldn't help but blush at the sight of such an attractive man.

"Don't grip the pistol too tightly. You have to relax. Don't fight the recoil," Chuck said airily. He saw the judgmental look in her eyes and a part of him burned inside with the desire to show off his superior knowledge of marksmanship to this obvious amateur.

Blair didn't say anything but followed his advice, loosening her grip. She didn't realie how tightly she had wrapped her hands around the gun. Her knuckles had turned white. Focusing on the target, Blair fired the pistol once again. This time, the bullet made contact with the target. It was still several inches away from the bullseye but was clearly the best shot of the day.

Frustrated that she couldn't shoot properly without the help of this smug bastard, Blair turned on the safety and let the gun drop to the floor. She removed her earmuffs and ear plugs with a sulky expression. "What do you want?" she asked in a snobby voice.

"A thank you would be nice," Chuck replied. "You're Blair Waldorf, right?"

Blair nodded. "Who the hell are you?"

Chuck stared at her with a look of exasperation on his face. Did this girl really not know who he was? Had no one even bothered to tell her that he was coming? Couldn't the CIA have at least told her that someone was being assigned to watch her? "I'm Chuck Bass," Chuck said, waiting for her to hopefully recognize the name. "Chuck. Bass," he repeated in a much slower voice this time.

"I heard you the first time," Blair snapped. How did this guy even know her? His British accent was poorly concealed.

"I'm from MI6," Chuck lowered his voice and spoke through gritted teeth. Blair's face was still blank. Chuck stood a little taller. He smiled widely but with no emotion. "It's me, your new boyfriend."

_A/N: This chapter felt really slow, pace-wise. Did it to you? I wanted to spend a bit of time on the first impressions so sorry if this chapter lacked drama and suspense. I'll have much more CB time next chapter and maybe a quick check-in with our villain? I want to keep the story going because I hate filler chapters just as much as you. Thank you for all the continued support, especially to the anonymous reviews. I can't reply to them but thank you anyways! _Also, someone asked how old Chuck is. He's around 26-27 in this story. _Also, the updates in the coming week might be a little (or a lot) slower so please bear with me. I will try to chapters up as soon as possible but I probably won't be able to go one chapter a day, like I have been doing. _

_x_

_THR_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

* * *

"How do you not know who I am?" Chuck questioned. "Even your friend over there knew I was your new "boyfriend." Didn't anyone tell you I was coming?"

Blair cocked her head slightly to the side. She stared at him straight in the eye with her lips pursed, not wanting to seem like she wasn't the stupid little girl he was treating her like. "No one has told me anything," Blair said slowly, trying to remember her brief time with the CIA.

Air Evac had taken her to an underground bunker in upstate New York, another one of the CIA's undercover locations. She was given fresh clean clothes and a shower but no one wanted to talk to her. Even at the sight of her, several people turned and walked back the other way. By the seventh hour of waiting in on a bottom bunk in the barracks, Blair could no longer take the silent treatment. She threw a hissy fit, demanding someone tell her what the hell is going on. Unfortunately, no one was at liberty to say what was happening because no one knew what was happening. Equally as confused as Blair, they were helpless against her tirade and had no choice but to let her go. The agent from the helicopter spoke to her very briefly, speaking in a very cryptic manner.

"Your father has gone into hiding. We fear that someone may be after him, and therefore, after you. As his daughter, you might be used as leverage against him. It is his desire that you stay safe and stick to the original plan by allowing the CIA to provide protection for you."

Blair then reminded the agent that the Navy SEALs and her father's hired men had barely been able to keep her safe when the Waldorf's East Hampton home had been attacked. The official body count had gone up to eighteen, eight of which were people who had been trying to keep Blair safe. Not wanting to live miserably in the underground bunker, she said that unless someone starting giving her real answers or took her to her father, she would rely on her own protection. They had never mentioned anyone from MI6. So who the hell was this guy?

"The CIA has refused to answer any of my questions and failed to tell me that I had gotten a new "boyfriend." I suggest you start to tell me who you are before I call for either Dom or Pete, the two men you saw outside."

Chuck laughed. "Do you really think those thugs-for-hire can really keep you safe? Listen, your life is in danger. Do you not hear me right now? There are people who want you dead. The CIA is having more problems than they let on. My name is Chuck Bass and I'm part of an elite group within MI6. I'm Agent 009. I've been assigned to keep you from getting yourself killed. Understand?"

"How can I trust anything you say? I already told the CIA I don't need their help. Not unless they tell me the truth. And I don't know what it's like in England but here, in America, 009 means nothing. So you're going to have to give me more than "I'm Chuck Bass and oh, I'm so great because I'm Agent 009.""

God, this girl was a bitch. Chuck stared at Blair, who was standing with hip cocked to one side. There was obviously no way he was going to be able to convince her anything. Chuck remembered the small slip of paper in the pocket of his suit jacket with an address and name. Q had told him that some guy named Nate Archibald would be his CIA liaison and main provider of any weapons and technology that he might need. Would actually showing her that he was MI6 help at all? All Chuck knew was anything had to be better than trying to argue with Blair.

"Fine. You don't believe me? Come, I can prove that I'm who I say I am. I have to go meet someone from the CIA back in the city. I'll explain everything I can," Chuck offered. He hated being the one to surrender but years of training had started to kick in. He had a job to complete and he wasn't going to let some teenager stop him.

Blair had her arms crossed. "Yes, I'm just going to get into a car with a total stranger. I don't plan on being murdered today, sorry." With a defiant turn of the head, she started to walk past him towards the door. Chuck grabbed her wrist. "Let go of me!" Blair hissed, trying to pull away. Chuck was much stronger though and easily kept a firm grip. "Stop manhandling me!" Blair tried to hit him with her other hand. His reflexes were fast though and his other hand caught hers before she could do anything. _  
_

"Let's go," he growled, fed up with her games. He couldn't deal with this spoiled brat any longer. He pulled her along, still holding her by the wrist, and she followed despite her best efforts to free herself. He dragged her out back out towards the entrance where the café was and where Serena had drifted back to. The other guys were gone now leaving her to read a magazine at one of the tables. As they approached her, Chuck expertly slid his hand down from her wrist and to her hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

"Hey guys!" Serena said, setting down her magazine. She frowned at the sight of her best friend's unhappy looking face. Had she and Chuck gotten into a fight? "Ready to leave?"

"Just a quick question- Serena, was it?- Blair's told you about me, hasn't she? Chuck asked innocently. Blair wanted to gag.

"Yeah," Serena paused for a moment. "Right, I read an email yesterday? Or the day before? Don't you remember, Blair?" Serena turned to Blair. Chuck could feel Blair's palms getting sweaty.

"Did I?" Blair asked, blushing. Her face felt red hot. "I can't remember if I did. I've been so tired lately and I was catching up on so many things, I can't remember who I've told what." Truthfully, Blair had no idea what the fuck Serena was talking about. She was positive that she had never sent any email, let alone tell her about Chuck since she didn't even know who he was.

Serena watch Blair's face go bright red and Chuck's eyes travel off into nowhere. They were both standing stiffly and quite a distance apart, despite the fact they were still holding hands. Wait, was this guy really Blair's boyfriend? It didn't seem like Blair liked the guy very much from the way she was glaring at the ground. And didn't that Chuck guy ask her if she was Blair? How could he have mixed them up? He was her _boyfriend, _yet didn't know what she looked like.

"Blair, what's going on?" Serena took a step towards Blair, who immediately took a step back. "There's something you're not telling me. You aren't making sense these days. Coming to a shooting range?" Serena tilted her head towards Chuck. "The new boyfriend... " Serena's blue eyes pleaded with Blair's brown ones, begging her to open up and confide in her, as best friends should. "Is everything okay?" she asked tentatively, not wanting to offend Blair.

"Everything's fine," Blair snapped. "We actually have plans now so we'll be heading back into the city now. There's the car outside still, so you can take that home whenever." Blair stormed off, Chuck in tow.

"In case you forgot, I came here with you," Serena said hotly, getting upset. If Blair was going to be a mega bitch to her, then she could be one back. Have fun with your "boyfriend" or whatever."

* * *

The ride back into the city was quiet. It took half the time than it had taken to drive out, thanks to Chuck's speed driving. He drove well over the speed limit but it didn't hinder his abilities to drive well. He slowed down at the sight of policemen and didn't hit any wild deer. He didn't say anything to Blair. After seeing her blow up at Serena, he decided it wasn't worth it. She stared out the window half the time and scrolled through her phone the other half.

They ended up in Soho, parked outside a large brick building. Blair figured it was an old warehouse but it didn't look like it had been converted into a luxury loft or condominium, like many others in Soho.

"Where are we?" Blair asked, speaking for the first time since they had dramatically left the shooting range. She didn't trust the fact they had parked in a rare New York City alley.

"We're here to see someone from the CIA," Chuck said, not fully believing the words coming out of his mouth. The building did look sketchy and he had no knowledge of the city to know what type of neighborhood they were in. He did trust Q and MI6 though. Surely they knew who they were sending him to, right? Chuck stepped up to the metal door and ringed the buzzer. A few minutes later, the door swung open to reveal a tall and lean young man with shaggy dirty blonde hair. "Are you Nate Archibald?" Chuck asked, mentally preparing himself to fight if necessary.

"Depends who's asking," the man replied. His blue-green eyes, which Blair thought were very pretty, were uninviting. He stood barefoot leaning against the door frame dressed in jeans and a button down. Blair didn't think he looked like a bad person. But then again, Blair was proving to be quite bad at distinguishing the good guys from the bad.

"I'm Chuck Bass. I'm with MI6. This is Blair. Blair Waldorf," Chuck said, stepping back a bit so he could see Blair. M had told him that this Archibald guy was one of the very few people who knew all the details regarding Harold Waldorf. Chuck wondered in the back of his mind if Nate knew more than him. He was a young looking guy, probably the same age as himself, Chuck thought.

Nate's eyes widened hearing this. He extended his hand out to Chuck first, then Blair. "I've been expecting you. Come in, come in." Nate ushered the two in, locking the heavy door behind them. Appearances were certainly deceiving since the inside was much nicer than the outside. The entire floor was very spacious, with dark hardwood floors and minimalist furniture. "Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Soda? Beer? I got a great German Pilsner if you want," Nate said walking towards the kitchen. Everything was very shiny.

Blair stood near the doorway hesitantly, unsure if she should take off her shoes. She slipped off her Burberry sneakers and placed them near the door. Chuck, on the other hand, kept his shoes on; the heels of his leather Prada loafers making soft _clacking _sounds against the floor. "I'll take one of those Pilsners," Chuck called out.

"Ditto," Nate said, grabbing another bottle from the fridge. "Blair? My bartender skills aren't too good but I can whip up a cocktail if you want." Nate offered, searching for the bottle opener.

"I'll have a gin and tonic, if it isn't too much trouble," Blair said, trying to think of an easy drink that Nate could make. She saw Nate nod while he popped open the tops of the beers.

Once they all had their drinks, they stood around the island in the kitchen, sipping at their drinks but not talking. Finally, Chuck decided it was time to break the silence. "So, Archibald, what do you have for me?" Chuck took his final swig from the beer bottle and set down the green bottle.

Nate grinned. "C'mon, I'll show you." He set down his beer as well and led Chuck and Blair towards another room. It was a small study with a messy desk and large bookshelf. Chuck wanted to know where the hell this guy was taking them. Then, without warning, the entire bookshelf slid to the side to reveal a metal door. "I grew up watching movies where all the cool guys had secret rooms," Nate laughed. He entered a four digit PIN on the metal door's keypad and slid his thumb over a fingerprint reader. A few seconds later, the door opened to a downward staircase

"Watch your step," Nate cautioned. The three of them walked down two flights of stairs before ending up in the dark. Nate pressed a switch and the entire room lit up. The secret basement was large and spacious like the first floor but the room had little furniture and was surrounded in ceiling to floor cabinets. There seemed to be rooms downstairs, unlike upstairs though. "Welcome to the Armory," Nate said proudly. "My very own arsenal. So what do you need?"

"Impressive," Chuck noted. "I'll be needing a gun. A pistol, whatever you have. Just something."

Nate nodded and walked up to one of the cabinets. He entered yet another passcode and scanned his thumb again. The doors sprang open to reveal a small wall of guns with drawers of ammunition underneath. Chuck was a kid in a candy shop at this point. Even Blair, who hadn't said anything but just sipped her gin and tonic, was impressed at the very high tech nature of the Armory, as Nate had called it.

"You can practice with one if you want."

Chuck stopped examining one of the pistols. "Right now. In here."

"Sure, there's a room in the back with a target. It'll even move for you if you want."

"Why do you need a gun," Blair asked suddenly. The two boys who had been both handling the pistols turned. Chuck was surprised that she had spoken. "Why do you need a gun, Chuck," Blair asked again, her voice softer than before. For the first time, she sounded vulnerable. Scared almost.

"Precaution," Nate blurted out when Chuck didn't respond. "Just in case. It's always handy to have some form of self-protection."

"Will someone be shooting at us?"

Chuck sighed. The girl really was insufferable. Hadn't he been trying to tell her the whole time that she was in danger? "Not us, you." His words were harsh but not untrue. "I've been trying to explain..."

"So this is really happening to me then, is it?" Blair's voice was barely audible. Nate pretended to be occupied with one of the pistols, inspecting it closely. Chuck nodded curtly. "Then I'm ready," Blair announced. "I'm ready to listen to what you have to say."

_A/N: So another day, another chapter. This one was pretty long but I felt like everything was very sluggish. It's already the fourth chapter and I'm getting impatient myself. I don't want to rush through things but I definitely don't want this to go on for that long because I'm not the biggest fan of stories with over 20 chapters. So from the next chapter on, things will move a bit faster. So more Chuck/Blair but no villain appearance. Sorry. Next chapter, things will definitely start going. Thanks to all the people who have submitted reviews anonymously (I can't reply to those) It's so nice hearing from you. Also, there were several errors/problems in the previous chapter so I will write about them below (for anyone who's interested.)_

1. Blair being average: I'm just going to say what I've said to a few others: first impressions aren't always the ones that last. This is a Chuck and Blair story, so don't fret. Things will all work out (or will they...?)

2. Continuity errors (within the same chapter!): Someone noticed that Chuck confuses Serena as Blair but Serena knows that Chuck is Blair's new boyfriend. She doesn't seem to notice that Chuck can't recognize his own girlfriend. I tried to make some explanation for that and have Serena be appropriately confused. In the next chapter, I'll try to expand more on it again and make a somewhat logical and plausible reason for why there was the mix-up.

I hope I haven't lost too many readers! Sorry again to keep things moving so painfully slowly. I know I promised to speed things up, which I didn't do. Next chapter, pinky swear.

_BTW, I love getting honest feedback so feel free to leave a review, even if it is to bash on my story _

_;)_

_x THR_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I own nothing_.

* * *

"You're telling the truth, right?" The skepticism in Blair's voice was obvious. She wasn't very good at telling if people were lying since she'd always preferred to believe a good lie rather than hearing the painful truth.

They were sitting in a small coffee shop a few blocks from Nate's house. Chuck had quietly taken the Makarov and ammo Nate had handed him, tucking the pistol in the back of his pants. They both ordered coffee- an espresso for Chuck and an Americano for Blair- but neither was drinking.

"Of course," Chuck lied. Over the years, Chuck had mastered the art of lying to the point where he could easily fool polygraphs. The easiest method was to not care. A lack of emotional attach made it easy to tell a lie without the slightest care about its validity. It made it easier for Chuck to believe the lies himself.

"What's your name?" Blair paused. "Your real name."

Chuck smirked. "Charles Bartholomew Bass. My name really is Chuck Bass." Not everything was code names in the world of espionage. Perhaps Blair had been watching too many movies.

"And you work for MI6?" Blair was watching Chuck's face very carefully. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking behind that stupid smirk.

"Yes but I'm loan right now helping the CIA watch you."

"Why do I need to be guarded? You said someone wanted me dead."

Chuck bit the inside of his lower lip. "Well, they don't know if anyone wants you dead. We think someone might be after your father. Being his daughter makes you a target. You would know this if you listened to me when I told you this the first time."

"I don't need your snarky commentary," Blair interjected. "Where is my father?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," Chuck said. It was true, though. M had been very clear when he had told Chuck to not tell anyone anything.

"You promised to tell the truth," Blair blurted out as if promises were made to be kept and not broken. Blair regretted her words. She hated sounding like a petty high schooler.

"You don't have to worry about him," Chuck chose his words carefully, "he's in a safe place. This is what he wants for you." This answer seemed to please Blair who sighed with relief and relaxed her tense body.

"So you'll be protecting me then?"

"More like babysitting," Chuck admitted, wanting to let her know how boring this job was going to be for for him. "Just until the CIA figures a few things out. It won't be too long."

"You know, I'm not a teenage. I'm college and living my own life, for your information. I'm twenty," Blair huffed. Chuck held back a snort refusing to believe there was actually a difference between being nineteen and twenty. "I could do without your help. But if this is what Daddy wants..." A daddy's girl. Chuck wanted to gag. "So I just tell people you're my boyfriend?"

Chuck shrugged. "I suppose. Although it seems like you already have," Chuck said, referring to the little incident with Serena.

"I figured out what happened," Blair stated triumphantly. "Those bastards hacked into my email and sent it pretending to be me. They said something about my fabulous new beau, Chuck and how wonderful he was. It didn't even sound like me."

"That's the CIA for you. You should consider yourself lucky. I am quite wonderful. Many women would kill to be in your position," Chuck said, smirk still plastered on his face. He winked at Blair who pretended to throw up. They both laughed but it died down quickly once they realized the other was also laughing. "It'll make a good story for society papers and it's the easiest way for me to be around you at all times without raising suspicion. We don't want anyone to know you're under protection."

"All day, every day, huh?" Blair sighed over dramatically.

"It'll be fun," Chuck added dryly. Blair smiled weakly. They both had the same feeling though: they were in for one hell of a time.

* * *

"Darling, you are a genius! Everything is going as we planned."

"Yes, we're getting close now," Dan murmured in agreement. "We'll go live in an hour, I think," Dan typed his last few words before hitting save. Things were going better than planned, which rarely happened for Dan.

"Diamonds?" The woman behind him squealed with glee as she read over Dan's shoulder. "Oh, I wish we could be there to see the look on her face!"

Dan turned to her with a sly smile on his face. "You will be able to see," he swiveled the chair back towards the computer and pulled up a new window. There was a grid of nine small screens, each displaying the view of a different room.

"You bugged her house," the women said, her voice filling with realization. "Brilliant. It's so bad, I love it!"

"Oh, it was nothing," Dan tried to sound indifferent. "I just had a couple of my boys do it for me."

The woman wasn't going take his attempt at nonchalance. She spun the desk chair so that Dan was facing her again. "My, my. Who would've thought there would be a day where Dan Humphrey has his own henchmen to do his dirty work for him," the woman mounted herself on top of Dan, straddling him. Her grin was pure wickedness, Dan observed. The woman leaned down towards Dan's face, capturing his lips with hers.

* * *

"Uh," Q didn't know how to say what was about to tell M. "Sir, the site's down."

"Which site?" M demanded to know. This was hardly the time for bad news seeing as 009 had failed to make contact since he had arrived to America. It would have been nice to be updated about the status of Ms. Waldorf. It wasn't as if the fate of the world was dependent on one girl's survival or anything. Well, truthfully, even M wasn't sure what Blair Waldorf's significance was. He had spoken to the head of the CIA who was conducting a search of Harold Waldorf's Upper East Side penthouse to look for any potential answers but so far, nothing had turned up.

Q took a deep breath. "_The _site. Y'know, Omni."

"Of course I know!" M sucked in his breath. "When?" he breathed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. The last thing he needed was for Harold Waldorf's experiment to start acting up. He knew that getting into this whole Omni business two decades ago was going to be a bad thing. It had been his genius idea, the one that shot him to superstardom ranks within the secret intelligence agency world. His reinvention of security systems and data encryption were one thing, but this? This was a whole new world.

"Less than half an hour ago, maybe. Finding who caused the blackout is impossible. This person knows what they're doing. I doubt even the best tech heads in the world would be able to track down the person down to a specific location. To take down a site like this? Especially one that Harold Waldorf continuously worked on up until his murder..."

M was finding it harder and harder to stay calm. "That's not what I want to be hearing." M's eyes were closed shut. The look on his face was one of severe stress. "And the information, that's still all safe? They can't possibly have accessed that already, could they?"

"They have," Q choked. "Everything. They have access to it all. Luckily, everything's encrypted. We just don't know how long it'll be until they break into that."

"Shut it down. Can't you just kill the damn thing?"

"No. Only Waldorf knew how," Q could barely speak. Sweat was starting to drip down the sides of his forehead. "The CIA knows. They're going mad over there. But the whole Waldorf thing. It's not going to be easy to contain the issue if only five people know what's really going on."

"We can't let the others know. Not yet, it's far to risky. We don't know what the bollocks is going on. No point in poking a sleeping giant."

M motioned for Q to leave but his legs wouldn't listen to his brain. It was rare that he found himself panicking, since he usually kept a very calm demeanor. The sweaty palms, the heart palpitations, the lightheadedness. It was all new to him. It was a terrible feeling, not having control over one's body. "But Sir? What does this mean? Shall I alert the PM?"

"No, do not alert the PM," M shook his head. "At this point, it's too early to tell. At best, there's just a kink in the system and the site momentarily blacked out. At worst, someone has just declared war on us."

* * *

_A/N: Voilá! Three short scenes that progressed the story along. I've introduced one half of the bad guys. I love writing Dan as the bad guy. But who is his leading lady? The deal with Omni is being kept vague on purpose, mostly because I haven't figured it all out myself and also because I want there to be stuff for me to write about in the later chapters. How are you guys like the pace of the story? It's a bit quicker and the writing is a bit snappier. I changed the style a bit too, I don't know if you noticed. Any preferences? Tell me your thoughts, feelings, criticism, etc.!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

* * *

"Where are you staying?" Blair asked. They had left Soho and were driving towards the Upper East Side where Blair lived.

Chuck tapped his fingers on the steering wheel impatiently. The traffic in New York was unbearable. "I'm not too sure, actually." Chuck had cash on him and a credit card, courtesy of MI6. He would've loved nothing more than to find a random hotel and pass out on the bed.

"Well, are you allowed to leave me alone for the night?" Blair was frustrated with Chuck's lack of knowledge regarding what he was supposed to do. It seemed every question was answered with either a shrug or "I'm not allowed to tell you that." Chuck didn't respond however so Blair continued to talk. "Because it sounds like I shouldn't be left alone at all. My apartment has only one bedroom but there's a couch in the living room. I could always call housekeeping to set it up as a bed. Isn't there someone you can call? Over at MI6? Maybe find out what's happening from here?"

"Believe me, I'm as clueless as you are," Chuck replied. MI6 was supposed to have gotten in contact with him by now and it was unlike them to be tardy about these things. "I was told to wait for further instructions and they haven't gotten back to me yet. I'll take you home first, eh?"

* * *

"Would you like something to eat?" Blair asked despite only knowing how to "cook" yogurt parfait and scrambled eggs. She swung open the cabinets to find only expensive jars of jams and fruit preserves from Dean and Deluca's. "I can make scrambled eggs... Wait, no, I think the eggs have gone bad," Blair said after inspecting the fridge. "I have jam. Lots of jam, if you want. And maybe some yogurt."

"I'm good, thanks," Chuck replied, ignoring the gnawing sensation in his stomach. He had gone much longer without food so it wouldn't kill him now. At Blair's suggestion, he had used her guest bathroom to wash up. He had emerged, sleeves rolled up, feeling refreshed and his hands smelling faintly of lavender soap. "Does this building have a roof? I'm going to call MI6."

"Yeah, there is a rooftop garden. You can just take the elevator up." Blair was busy inspecting the expiration date on a pack of non-fat lemon yogurts. Seeing that they were still good, Blair took one out of the fridge, peeling off the aluminum top. She heard the front door close behind Chuck. Shrugging, she opened a drawer, in search of a spoon.

* * *

"What the hell, M?" Chuck stood in the building's rooftop garden, abundant with flowers, bushes, and small trees. There was even a koi pond. He kicked at the ground absentmindedly, destroying a patch of neatly lawned green grass. "Last time I checked, it was against protocol to just dump an agent in a foreign country without any instructions."

He heard static on the other end. "Last time we checked, it was against protocol to disregard the orders, including ones that are something along the lines of "wait for further instructions."" There was a pause. "Did you find Waldorf?"

"Of course. What, do you think I'm completely incompetent or something?" Chuck gripped his phone tightly. "She's a real charmer, by the way," he grit through his teeth. He stomped towards the koi pond, kicking at small stones and fallen leaves.

"It's a good thing you called actually. We have the instructions, you've been dying to find out. Where are you now? Nevermind. The point is, you are not to let Waldorf out of your sight. Someone, the person who killed Harold Waldorf we're guessing, has taken over Omni. We have reason to believe that there is currently a plot to steal approximately one and a half million pounds worth of diamonds from her apartment. Tonight."

"And what would give you that impression?" Chuck knew the girl was loaded but having that much just lying around the house? In diamonds? Even for someone like Chuck, who never had to worry about money growing up, thought this was facetious. Or at the very least, excessive.

M clucked his tongue. "Besides the fact that detailed blueprints of her apartment's ventilation systems have been uploaded onto Omni? Not to mention, the detailed plan with escape routes and getaway cars? Someone has just uploaded a roadmap to robbing this girl. They're going to let someone else do the work for them. And for what? Can't you see it? He's practically mocking us."

Chuck froze. If what M was saying was true, then he had just left Blair Waldorf alone in her apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

* * *

Blair stood at the counter, flipping through the latest _Vogue _and eating small spoonfuls of her lemon yogurt. She loved the glossy pages and the pretty clothes. Blair paused, hearing a noise. Was Chuck back already? It couldn't have been since he would've needed to ring the doorbell. The front door locked automatically- something Blair had fallen victim to. It was probably nothing. She was about to flip to the next page when she felt something very small and very hard press against her waist.

"Don't move. Don't think about trying to scream for help. Don't even blink."

Blair sucked in her breath. "What do you want?" Was this the end for her? She knew the thing shoved against her body wasn't a toy. Goddamn, where was Chuck? This was the type of thing that he was supposed to be protecting her against, no?

"I don't want to have to hurt you. You are _quite _the pretty thing, Ms. Waldorf," The low, raspy voice was lecherous. Blair tried not to gag. She was used to stares that lasted too long. Serena, who had bloomed earlier than Blair, had taught her how to deal with the pervy old business men who eyed them lustfully.

"I'll give you what you want," Blair said shakily. "But not if I'm dead," she added. She couldn't show that she wasn't afraid. She wouldn't show that she was afraid. She felt the gun leave her side and an arm wrap around her waist.

Blair felt her body being spun around to face her attacker. A surprisingly young face stared back at her with a malicious grin. Blair could hardly believe this was who was threatening to harm her. His face still had spots, for crying out loud. But he was the man with the gun and Blair wasn't an idiot.

He pushed her in front of him, pressing the gun against her back. "Take me to the diamonds."

"You're going to be a little more specific than that," Blair frowned as she was forced to her bedroom. What diamonds could he be possibly talking about? This man obviously knew of her and had gone through great lengths to enter her apartment discreetly. Would someone really put in that much effort to steal a girl's jewelry?

"I don't have time for your bullshit. You know what I'm talking about. I know you've got a pretty pile of some very nice loose diamonds, so don't even bother." The robber pointed his gun up toward Blair's head.

"Everything's in my closet," Blair said, walking towards her enormous walk-in. It was an entire room in itself, everything organized to perfection. Every few months or so, Blair called over her old housekeeper, Dorota, to reorganize the entire thing. Color, designer, type of garment. But in the center, at the heart of the room, was her jewelry. An antique wooden chest of drawers, resting on top of a large metal safe.

Blair knelt down to quickly unlock the safe. There were a few stacks of hundred dollar bills- emergency cash, Blair liked to call it- and her valuables, most of which were sentimental.

"See, no diamonds," Blair grabbed the money and tossed them to at the robber. She then unlocked the drawers of the chest which stored the boxes from Tiffany's, Harry Winston, Bvlgari, Cartier, David Yurman... Fine pieces indeed but only a small portion of a large collection. Much of the jewelry she wore on only the most special of occasions and had inherited from her mother was kept in safe deposit boxes, not left lying around in her house. "I don't know who told you I had a sack of diamonds lying around but I prefer my stones set."

She was prepared to give the robber all her jewelry, if that's what he wanted. Unfortunately, this answer didn't seem to satisfy her robber. His face was scrunched up in a scowl and he was waving his gun around furiously. Blair was starting to get nervous. She had tried to keep calm by telling herself that if she gave this man whatever he wanted, he would let her be.

"You know, I really wanted those diamonds. But if you don't have them, there's nothing you can do." Blair let out a small sigh of relief. "In that case, a little consolation prize will do." He tossed the gun aside, striding towards Blair. He grabbed her in his arms, pulling her close his body.

Blair tried to resist him but his grip was too strong. She wriggled and squirmed to escape with her arms held up. She scratched at his face, kicking her legs madly. "Get off me," Blair shrieked. She brought her knee up swiftly, hitting him directly in the groin. He stumbled back, swearing loudly.

"You're a bitch, you know?" he grimaced.

Blair kicked him in the shin. Hard. "So I've been told." He lunged for her. In his disorientated state, he missed and fell to the ground. Blair took his as her opportunity to hit him on the head with one of the large, flat jewelry boxes. She dropped it and started to run out of the closet, only to find her leg being grabbed. "Let me go!" Blair yelled, shaking her foot around. She felt herself being pulled down. Blair fell to the ground with a thud, finding herself staring right at her attacker.

He crawled towards his gun, reaching for it. He laughed sadistically while doing so. Blair closed her eyes. She had lasted longer than she expected but this was surely the end. He was going to kill her. No. He was going to rape her and then kill her. She held her breath, waiting for death to arrive.

Blair opened her eyes at the sound of a horrid sounding screech. Her attacker was still lying on the ground, his hand a mere inches away from his gun. Chuck was there, though, towering over him and his foot firmly stepping down on his wrist.

"Who the hell are you working for," Chuck growled, his heel digging deep into the man's wrist. His face was flustered and his breathing slightly heavy. Blair heard the crunching of bones and winced.

The man laughed again, shaking from the pain. "It was that stupid website. All I had to do was follow the instructions. All the work was already done."

Chuck dropped down so that his knee rested on the robber's back. He grabbed his arm, the one with the broken wrist, and twisted it. The arm bent towards Chuck unnaturally. "I'll ask you again. Who the hell sent you?"

"No one," the man replied, tears streaming down his face. "Please, I'm just a thief. All I wanted was the diamonds."

The answer didn't satisfy Chuck. With another swift twist, Chuck dislocated the man's shoulder. He stood up and fixed the sleeves of his shirt. Chuck kicked the the would-be robber and rapist in the gut twice for good measure and decided against shattering his kneecap. The man lay on the ground, moaning while his body writhed in pain.

Chuck walked to Blair who was curled up in a ball on the ground. She stared up at him, her expression hard. She did not look as grateful as a person should be when they just had their life saved.

"A thank you would be nice," Chuck mumbled, knowing full well he should've never left her alone. Still, he had run down several flights of stairs, managed to ram himself into her front door enough times to force it open, and saved her just in the nick of time.

"So much for being here to protect and guard me," Blair spat out. Her hair was a mess and her body ached from where she had been grabbed at. Chuck crouched down in front of her. Blair quickly turned her head away.

"Listen, it's my fault. I left you alone when I shouldn't have. But I'm here now, aren't I?" Chuck struggled to form the words in his mouth. Admitting being wrong was proving to be quite difficult. "It isn't safe, Blair," he said. Saying her name felt funny; he hadn't adressed her very much.

Blair refused to look him in the eye. She sniffed, refusing to let herself cry.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Chuck confessed. He looked down in shame. Fuck, he hated apologizing. When he looked up though, his eyes met Blair's. There was a glint in her eye and a smirk on her face. The feisty little bitch was back. Chuck stood up abruptly. He held out his hand to Blair. "Come on then. Let's go."

"Where?" Blair asked. She didn't take his hand but stood up nonetheless. Her arms were folded at her chest.

Chuck's hand dropped. "Anywhere but here," he replied, jerking his thumb towards the robber who had passed out. "Like I said, it isn't safe here. Grab some stuff, it's time to go."

* * *

_A/N: So, Blair half saves her and Chuck comes in to save the day. I didn't think it was right to have Blair just be meek and helpless the entire time. I hope you enjoyed it. It was another slow chapter, I know, and I'll try to keep a balance slow paced and fast paced chapters. I will also try and write longer chapters! This was the first time I wrote an "action scene" (if you could call it that) but I can't have a _Bond_ themed story without them. I didn't know how to write the bad guy without being totally cheesy. Be so kind and tell me how I did! PS. Thank you for being so patient, especially with the infrequent updates lately. I'll try and get back to chapter-a-day posting._

_x THR_


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

* * *

Blair sat on the edge of bathtub, waiting for it to fill. Wrapped in the fluffy white towel and her hair up in a loose bun, Blair let her fingers drift across the surface of the hot water. Her body throbs with pain but her mind is empty. It tries to process everything that's happened in the past twelve hours but it can't. It's just too much and it wasn't long before her head started to pound as well.

"Are you alright in there?" Chuck's voice called out from the bedroom. He was slumped in the armchair, desperately trying to stay awake. He rubbed at his eyes furiously as his brain tried to recall the last time he had a goodnight's rest.

An hour earlier, Blair was quickly throwing some clothes into a Louis Vuitton duffel bag while Chuck got rid of the robber, who had woken up after passing out. Chuck had refused to call the police, like a normal person would, claiming that it would only guarantee hours spent in the police station and raising unnecessary suspicion. They went to the first hotel that came to Blair's mind- the Plaza- and booked the only available suit: a one bedroom with a king bed.

"It's fine, I'm just taking a bath," Blair called back, rolling her eyes. After being attacked, Chuck had become appropriately overbearing. Blair enjoyed watching him squirm, feeling all guilty about leaving her alone, but he was being excessive. All she wanted to do was soak. It was a little too late to be protective.

Once the tub was adequately filled, Blair let the towel drop to the floor and lowered her body into the tub. The water was burning hot but Blair didn't mind. She liked it in the bath tub. It was quiet, except for the occasional drip from the tap and when she splashed the water with her hands. Blair soaked until the water went cold and her fingers were wrinkly. She watched the water go down the drain, wishing her problems could go along with it.

* * *

"I thought maybe you tried to drown yourself."

Was Chuck ever not a smartass? Blair couldn't stand his stupid smirk. Considering the circumstances, it was hardly the time to be joking. "Believe me, it crossed my mind," Blair made a face. Chuck didn't have anything to say after that and neither did Blair. She figured they both weren't in the mood to be snippy.

Blair sat cross-legged on top of the massive king size bed, brushing out her long brown hair. She wore a pair of men's silk pajamas, a pair she stole from her father's closet when she left for college. They were enormous on her and she had to roll up the sleeves several times to use her hands. Still, the pajamas were comfortable and reminded Blair of her father. Chuck, on the other hand, still sat in the plush arm chair.

The lighting in the room was dim. Blair saw only a shadow of Chuck, sitting in the corner.

"I hate this," Blair said softly after minutes of sitting in silence. "Just sitting here- literally- waiting around. Waiting for someone to attack me. Waiting until the last minute to be saved. Waiting for a massacre to unleash outside my bedroom door..." Blair's voice trailed off.

"It's hard, I know," Chuck rasped. His voice was scratchy. His eyelids were starting to droop with fatigue, threatening to close on him at any second. "But it's all we can do."

Blair sat up a little straighter. "I've done enough scheming in my life to know that being on the defensive side is never the place to be." Chuck listened becoming more alert with each passing second. "It's time to switch things up."

* * *

"How'd the diamond heist plot go?"

"Shit," Dan grumbled. He had watched what happened through the secret cameras he had set up in Blair's apartment. The stupid girl wasn't supposed to fight back. She wasn't supposed to be saved. Who the hell was that anyways? Breaking down the door and beating the robber up?

"Aw, poor baby. I'm so sorry," the woman cooed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Dan had been scheming 24/7 but none of his plots were following through.

"No matter. The diamonds were just a practice run. Listen to me. We're still in control of Omni. I have control over the CIA, NATO, and just about every intelligence agency in the world. They're all wrapped around my little finger. That diamond thing? It was just to mess with Waldorf's mind. When I'm through with her and the CIA, they'll never know what hit them."

The woman was irritated. Dan had yet to reveal his master plan to her, only insisting that he needed to get in control of Omni, or some other random shit. It was pissing her off to be honest. All the money in her account was draining faster than she could keep track, thanks to all of Dan's expensive tools. "But you haven't decrypted the damn thing yet, you said," the woman's tone was accusatory.

"No, I'm not. But I'm in the front door and those goons at the CIA don't know any better. They're all trembling in their boots thinking I'm going to unleash their secrets. I just have to decrypt a few more things and before you know it, I'll have full control of Omni."

The woman wasn't satisfied. "But you aren't in full control and you have no idea how to get past the security which means we're nowhere," she snapped.

"I'm close, alright?" Dan said defensively. "I just need to figure out a few more things." Dan ran his hand through his curly dark hair, frustrated. He didn't want to admit that he was clueless. There was a connection between the girl and Omni, Dan knew it. But what? Why would Harold Waldorf put so much effort into keeping his daughter hidden if she didn't know anything about Omni? There was no way that she was clueless about the situation.

"Well you better hurry the fuck up," the woman hissed before storming out of the room with a huff.

* * *

Serena and Blair were sitting in Dolce and Gabbana while Chuck searched for a suit. Blair informed Chuck that she wasn't going to lie to her best friend and told him that he was just going to have to accept the fact that Serena was going to be let in on what was happening. Chuck, then too tired to argue, waved off her blabbering as he walked towards the couch. Blair had claimed the bed which left Chuck two options: the floor or the couch.

"So Chuck isn't your boyfriend?" Serena whispered. Blair shook her head.

The sales assistants kept approaching them every two minutes, offering to show them the latest new handbags and clothing.

"He's just a government-provided glorified bodyguard," Blair said bitterly. "Someone tried to rob me last night. Asked for diamonds which I didn't have. "

Serena's blue eyes went large. "Your life is seriously fucked up, B. Is that why you've been acting so weird lately?" Serena knew that Chuck and Blair weren't dating. They had made it so painfully obvious at the shooting range. She was quick to forgive Blair, she always was.

"You're telling me!" Blair whispered furiously. "The worst part is I have to _pretend _he's my boyfriend anyways. I'm not an idiot, the CIA's using me as bait. They want to lure the bad guy out or whatever. I know a secret plan when I see one," Blair fiddled with her Chloé bag. Several feet away, Chuck held up a suit, silently asking for Blair and Serena's approval. They wrinkled their noses in unison.

"Too formal," Blair drawled lazily and Serena nodded vigorously in agreement. Chuck clearly knew how to dress and had an expensive taste to match but he was taking up way too much time. He was too picky for his own good. Not to mention, he kept as eying those hideous bow ties. Usually, Blair enjoyed this type of thing. Finding the perfect suit to match and compliment hers perfectly. It drove all her past boyfriends mad, which only added to the demise of the relationship. Blair didn't really want to give a damn about what the hell Chuck wore but he was going to be seen with her. In public. As her boyfriend. Her mother had taught her that appearances were everything and Blair did not need everyone to think she was dating some fashion-challenged loser.

"Blair, please help him," Serena begged. All she wanted to do was go to Bergdorf's and find some cute dresses to wear. "We can take him to Bergdorf's and find him something there. It's time for some S and B shopping time!" Serena declared in a sing song voice.

Blair smiled. "Alright, fine." She stood up, smoothing out her skirt. It was Marc by Marc Jacobs, last season, but it was one of the few things she had haphazardly thrown into her bag while packing. "Sometimes I think you have a shopping addiction," Blair giggled, linking arms with Serena, who had also stood up. Blair turned her head towards Chuck and tilted her head slightly to the door. Understanding her body language, Chuck ditched the suits and walked towards the two.

"Oh that's rich, coming from you," Serena teased. They walked out of the store, arm in arm, with Chuck a few steps behind. Serena peeked behind her. "God, could he look anymore like a bodyguard? You know you aren't going fooling anyone, right? You have to at least pretend you care about him. Show some affection?"

"That's what I was trying to avoid," Blair grimaced. "Come on, I know you can't resist Hervé Léger."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry if it seemed like Blair and Serena kissed and made up too quickly. I just loved S and B friendship moments on the show. Still no reveal of the mystery woman but it's become a bit obvious, no? There will be lots of CB goodies in the next chapter, I promise! Leave a review letting me know what you thought!_

_x THR_


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

* * *

"Does she always take this long to get ready?"

Chuck and Serena were waiting, somewhat impatiently, in the Plaza's lobby. They stood near the elevators where people stared as they passed by them. Serena donned her newly-purchased Hervé Léger, a bright red strapless bandage dress mini. It predictably showed off all of her assets and then some. Paired with the most expensive hooker shoes Chuck had ever seen, platform glittery gold Louboutins, Serena was quite the sight. Chuck appreciated leggy blondes but Serena was a bit much, even for him. Regardless, she flaunted her flowing blonde hair and long lean legs with an air of confidence that screamed California more than it did New York.

After waiting nearly half an hour for Blair in an awkward silence, Chuck was close to losing his mind. During the first fifteen minutes, Serena had tried to suggest ways for Blair and Chuck to make their fake relationship appear more realistic but she quickly shut up seeing the look on Chuck's face. It was apparent that he had no interest in being affectionate or smiling.

"Can't you call her or something?" Chuck complained in the thirty-sixth minute of waiting. He was being forced against his will to wear a dark blue Armani blazer, which he had to admit was pretty snazzy, and go to some stupid club. He was sure make his discomfort known while the trio had been shopping at Bergdorf's but Blair had simply replied that he acting like a stupid child and he shouldn't complain since the drinks would be plentiful anyways. She had very little tolerance and patience for his nonsense and she constantly questioned how on earth he had managed to reach such an elite position within MI6.

"I tried texting her like a million times," Serena checked her iPhone again. "Oh look, someone tweeted about us!" Serena exclaimed gleefully, shoving the phone in front of Chuck. "Looks like word got out that we'll be at Pulse tonight. Perfect!"

"Listen, if she isn't here in the next ten seconds, I'm going-," Chuck announced. He leaned forward, about to press the elevator button when the doors slid open with a _ding._

Blair stood in the elevator, dressed and ready to go. "And where will you be going?" she demanded to know, raising an eyebrow. She stepped out elevator, her face inches away from Chuck's. Her makeup was dramatic- smokey eyes and lips looking as if they had been stained with bordeaux- and her hair was up in a loose bun with a few curls framing her face. Their expressions were hard, daring the other to look away first.

Even in her black suede wedge booties, Blair was still shorter than Chuck. Despite their height difference, she managed to maintain an authoritative manner. Chuck forced his eyes to stay locked with Blair's but could still see what she was wearing. Her sequined navy blue dress reflected light, glimmering like the ocean. The boat neck neckline was far more conservative than Serena's. While Serena showed off an ample amount of cleavage, only Blair's collarbones were visible. With its three-quarter sleeves and stopping modestly just above the knee, Chuck was taken aback by the stark difference in attire between the two friends. Serena looked like a high-class escort while Blair just looked she was attending a high-class event.

Upon being able to smell Blair's perfume, he stepped to the side. He saw a satisfied smirk flash across her face for a brief second as she strode past him. She smiled at Serena, reaching out to link arms with her. Still slightly intoxicated from Blair's perfume, Chuck was shocked at the back, or lack thereof, of Blair's dress. Her dress was backless, scooping right to the small of her back, exposing her shoulder blades and smooth, blemish free skin. Inhaling sharply, Chuck found himself ogling her backside.

Shaking his head, he quickly walked past Serena and Blair, who watched him with confused looks.

"What's gotten into him?" Blair laughed.

Serena laughed along, even though she had a feeling it had to do with Blair's dress. Serena had helped Blair pick it out, fully aware of its jaw-dropping potential. "I have no idea!"

* * *

The VIP private booth Serena had scored at Pulse was nice. A round velvety couch and table up on the second level, away from the chaos of the main floor. Serena was friends with just about every club owner and promoter in the city, allowing her to skip lines and cause a small scene upon her arrival. The paparazzi, eager to snap a pic of New York's fabulous socialite, had heard that she was at Pulse with her BFF and her hot new beau. Word spread that the stunning brunette was Blair Waldorf, as in the daughter of late fashion designer Eleanor Waldorf and tech giant Harold Waldorf. Much to her delight, they were more interested in her than Serena; something that rarely happened. She smiled coyly for the photographers, Chuck by her side before slipping into the loud club.

Bottles of Veuve Clicquot and Dom Pérignon, a personal favorite of Blair's, flowed freely, with the waiters bringing plenty of shots and cocktails. The booth was cozy and Blair made sure to sit close to Chuck after Serena pointed out some people downstairs attempting to take discreet photos of them with their phones.

"You're famous," Serena had laughed before being swept away to dance with her new friend Felipe.

Blair flashed her a charming smile before wiggling her body closer to Chuck. She felt his body stiffen as she pressed her body next to his and lay her head against his chest. "Remember, you're my boyfriend tonight," Blair grit through her teeth. Chuck gradually relaxed, the arm wrapped around Blair feeling very unnatural. "My mother told me that appearances were everything," Blair mentioned offhand, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. She had had a few flutes of champagne, plus a martini, and all those free shots the bar had sent up. "She said it was the most important part of life... That and being skinny," Blair laughed bitterly.

Chuck was grateful for Pulse's loud music. He tilted his head to the side to take a sip of his scotch. "They're all obsessed with you," Chuck observed, noticing the people who stopped to stare up at them. "They don't even know you."

"But they want to," Blair played with one of the buttons on Chuck's shirt. She asked herself what she was doing, knowing that she was crazy, but couldn't make herself stop. "They're in love with the idea of us," she said, referring to her and Serena. "We're young, we have money. We're beautiful. Even when they're hating us, they want to be us. Or at the very least, be our best friend." Blair's words were conceited but her voice lacked the tone to match. She sighed, her head feeling heavy. "They can probably read lips, too," Blair fake whispered loudly.

"Mm," Chuck agreed. "I'll be sure to try to be secretive," he turned his head towards her. "Wouldn't want anyone to find out about your fake "bodyguard" boyfriend," he whispered, his lips dangerously close to her ear.

They heard a loud laugh to their left. Serena was dancing up on one the tables, which seemed to please Felipe.

"Is she always like that?" Chuck could hardly believe Serena was real. She was wild, to say the least.

"Pretty much," Blair studied Chuck's face. He was staring at her, like most red-blooded males did, but there was something in his eye. Judgment? Contempt? It was hard to tell in the poor lighting. His jawline was incredibly sharp, she thought to herself. It was almost a shame that such a pretty face was wasted on a man of his character. The bastard was gorgeous and he probably knew it. Feeling her cheeks glow red (and not from the booze), Blair tore herself away from Chuck. She grabbed one of the shot glasses and knocked it back in one go.

* * *

"How much did you let her drink?" Serena asked, teetering behind Chuck. Michael, her new man of the night (it turned out Felipe had a girlfriend), followed behind her.

"I wasn't aware I had to keep track," Chuck was supporting Blair who was still conscious, but barely able to walk. She stumbled and tripped over her own feet, despite Chuck's best efforts to guide her. "How was I supposed to know she's a lightweight?"

"Dude, she's like a hundred pounds," Michael chimed in. Both Serena and Chuck glared at him. He was Serena's man of the night. No one asked for his opinion. He shut his mouth, knowing that the less he talked, the higher chance he had of getting laid.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go back to the Plaza with you?" Serena offered, even though she was rather drunk herself. Michael groaned, seeing his chances diminishing rapidly.

"I'm fine," Chuck said stubbornly, not appreciating Serena's lack of trust in him. He was highly trained in several martial arts and fluent in four languages. Surely he could take care of one drunk girl without the help of some blonde bimbo. "You can leave with your... friend or whatever."

With some coaxing from Michael, Serena decided it was okay to leave Blair with Chuck. They hailed two cabs, one for Serena and Michael and the other for Chuck and Blair. The cab had to pull over for Blair to puke, which was quite unladylike, on its journey back to the Plaza.

In the elevator, Blair's body decided it didn't want to walk anymore, forcing Chuck to hoist her over his shoulder and carry her back to the room. Had Blair been sober, she would've probably been horrified at being lugged around like a sack of potatoes. Had Blair been sober, she would've probably been horrified at Chuck's hand resting on the lower part of her bare back. Chuck didn't know what possessed him to do such a thing. All he knew was her skin was warm and soft and that he'd probably had one too many scotches himself.

He flopped her body down on the bed in an ungraceful manner, causing Blair to groan and mumble incoherently. Chuck was about to leave when she sat up groggily, hunched forward.

"It seems I've been getting carried around lately," Blair slurred. "From the Navy SEALs to special double-oh or whatever agents."

Chuck sat down on the edge of the bed next to her. "What was it like?" he asked unexpectedly.

Blair looked up at him, her eyes dark. She tore her gaze away from him, staring straight ahead. "I went to the Hamptons for a quick weekend trip. I need a small break..." Blair's voice trailed off and she sniffled. "I didn't know that my dad had suddenly hired people to watch me and protect me. There were almost twelve of them in total. Four that my father hired and the rest were from the CIA. Can you believe it? The CIA sending eight agents to protect me," Blair laughed shakily without a trace of humor. "And here you thought that you were oh so special and the first bodyguard I've ever had," Blair laughed more, slapping her hand down on Chuck's shoulder. There were fat tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

"It was the first day I was there and I was in the bedroom when they came. I heard gunshots and yelling and I didn't know what to do. I panicked and locked myself in the bathroom. And I waited. I waited for someone to come in and tell me that it was safe. But no one ever did. I waited and waited until the noise stopped." Blair paused, taking a deep breath. Her stomach churned as if she were going to vomit again. "And when I went outside," Blair's voice cracked, her hands balled up into fists. "There were bodies everywhere. So, so many bodies."

Blair let a sob. She immediately tried to stop herself from crying anymore though, clapping a hand over her mouth. She shook her head, not wanting to think about it anymore. Blair's body shook for a few minutes as she forced herself to cry without making a sound. Chuck sat next to her, his face blank. Blair's words were chilling and left him feeling sick. "No more," Blair finally said, shaking her head again. "No more, no more," Blair repeated over and over again like a small child. She lay back down on the bed, curling up into a ball.

She fell asleep quickly, her quiet cries dying down. As she began to breath normally, Chuck carefully took off her shoes and tucked her under the thick duvet. He left her to sleep, closing the door of the bedroom behind him and went to go sleep on the couch.

* * *

_A/N: Happy New Years! I hope that was CB centric enough for you guys! I realized that I'm close to a 100 reviews already and I wanted to take the time to thank all of you again. It's really rewarding being able to hear that you guys are enjoying my fanfiction. I'll try to reply to the non-anon reviews quickly and as for the anon-reviews, sorry I can't reply but thank you as well! Have a great day! _

_x THR_


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

* * *

The sun shone brightly, aggravating Blair and her hangover even more. She was usually quite good at holding her liquor but last night was a blur. There were memories, vague, but still there. Blair found Chuck sitting on the sofa, sipping coffee and eating a danish from a tray of room service food.

"Muffin?" Chuck offered, reading the _New York Times. _He didn't bother glancing up from his paper. There were dark bags under his eyes as well but nothing soothed his exhausted and slightly hungover body like a cup of hot black coffee and a warm pastry.

"About last night," Blair said slowly. "We will never speak of it again, understood?"

Chuck looked up, mouth full of danish. His eyes met hers. Her eyes were cold and blank. There was no point trying to understand what she was think. Chuck shrugged and returned to his paper. Blair hesitantly took a seat on the edge of the sofa, making sure to keep as much distance from her body and Chuck's. She reached for a croissant in the bread basket but didn't eat it. She broke it apart in her hands, tearing it into smaller and smaller pieces before it was uneatable.

* * *

At Serena and Blair's insistence, the three of them went out every night for the rest of the week. They hopped from club to club, making sure to be seen by all. There were photos of them exiting stretch limos dressed to the nines and stumbling out of parties at dawn. Everyone wanted to be seen with them. Everyone wanted to be around them.

Much to the dismay of the other partiers, Serena, Blair, and Chuck kept their circles very small. They refused to be around people who didn't A) have trust funds, B) regularly featured in society papers, or C) were supermodels. Serena, who had experienced a brief career in modeling, kept several of her high profile friendships with the most sought after models. She also crossed paths with several socialites, being one herself. Both Serena and Blair knew several people part of New York's wealthiest families from school and social functions. It was only natural for them to hang out with others who were also young, beautiful, and rich.

Blair didn't like having to interact with them. She was cordial- just barely- but her wit and sarcasm was missed by most. Once the company left, she pointed out the addicts and the fakes to Chuck, with a malicious smile on her face and a snobby tone in her voice. Chuck listened to her tear apart her "friends," getting crueler with each drink she finished. He studied her face, noticing her lack of interest in life in general and her glee in pointing out the inferiorities of others. She was a complete and utter bitch alright. It was frightening but almost admirable at the same time.

The gossip mill adored them. The three of them were dubbed "the Triumvirate" and trashy celebrity gossip sites kept tabs on their nightly whereabouts. Page Six wrote an article on Blair Waldorf, "New York's Darling New Socialite", and her debut in society. They had found out about her schooling at boarding school in Switzerland and life as a Columbia student. As the daughter of prominent members of society, her name was already written on every invitation list and her spot in high society was guaranteed. Brains, beauty, and the bank account to boot. Not to mention the hot boyfriend. Blair Waldorf had everything. It took a week. No, less than a week. She had stolen the spotlight from Serena in a few mere days.

* * *

"I have lots of good news," Q announced proudly to M. "All my time has been dedicated to figuring out what's going on with Omni and I think I've figured it out."

"You know how to shut it down?" M asked gruffly. He didn't believe in handing out gold stars, especially not for effort. If Q was going to come in and talk to him about the problem, rather than working on trying to fix it, then he had better have the solution.

Q's happy expression faltered. "Well, no," he confessed, pushing up his glasses. His face was damp from perspiration. "But it's possible. I found the door."

"The door?" M did not look amused or in the mood for Q's nonsense. He needed to get to the point. Fast.

"We always thought that only Harold Waldorf could shut down Omni but I've found that there is program written into Omni that allows it to be shut down and completely wiped clean."

"So we know how to use the program then?"

"No. But now we know it's possible to shut down Omni without Waldorf. I think that the daughter knows how."

M paused. They had had their suspicions regarding her involvement. He remembered describing her as the 'key' to Agent 009. Things were starting to making sense. Things were starting to get put together. Progress. "You think Waldorf told his daughter to shut it down?"

Q nodded vigorously.

"Then why hasn't she? She should've come forward, right?" M was a skeptic and a cynic.

"That's obvious, isn't it? No one's told her. She doesn't know Omni's under attack. We just need to tell her the circumstances and all she needs is a computer and wi-fi and she'll be able to shut down the bloody thing."

"Is there any use though? You said that this person, whoever they are, has already got control over Omni. Have they released any of the, ehm, sensitive information?" He knew that if any classified information had been leaked through Omni, he was a dead man. The PM was still in the dark, for Pete's sake.

"We checked and none of the actual data has been breached. The hacker got in, but he didn't get _in_," Q emphasized. Even M understood this degree of vagueness. He gave a brief nod in approval. "The data is secure for now," Q added. "We've been up-ing the security ever since. I doubt the hacker'll be able to get through. We'll shut it down before he can. And then all of this will be done for good."

"Excellent. Get Agent 009 on the phone. It's about time Ms. Waldorf gets filled in about Omni."

* * *

"Blair," Chuck whispered. "Blair, wake up!" Chuck placed a hand on Blair's shoulder and shook her gently. Blair mumbled incoherently before rolling over to her other side. She had been a graceful sleeper up to this point, laying perfectly straight and still. Now she was waving her hands everywhere, trying to get Chuck to go away.

Chuck shook Blair again, less gently this time. Blair opened an eye. "What the fuck?" she cried out upon seeing Chuck inches away from her face. Chuck laughed hearing her cuss. "It's like 4am!" Blair exclaimed, check her white gold Rolex. She groaned, grabbed a pillow, and buried her face into it. Chuck stood up, clapping loudly and obnoxiously. He caught the pillow Blair threw at him.

"Get up! Get up!" Chuck said sounding happy almost.

Blair sat up in bed, running her hands through her hair. Her head throbbed with a hangover. This was not the time for an ambush thinly disguised as a wake up call. Was this some type of sick joke? "Why are you so happy?" Blair asked as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

"It's about Omni. I've received more information," Chuck declared, happy that he finally got some information from M. He was tired of Blair's brilliant 'plan' to scare off anyone who dared to try and attack her. Really, all everyone knew was that she was just another drunk socialite with too much money and not enough of Daddy's love. Chuck roughly estimated that the cost of the week's shenanigans, from the drinks to the new clothes, well exceeded ten thousand dollars. The girl liked expensive things and had a limitless Amex.

"Wait, so I'm allowed to know real information?" Blair asked, getting excited. Finally, she was going to get some answers. She had no idea what the heck Omni was but it sounded important and she was going to be let in on what was happening.

"Yeah, we got to get over to Archibald's right now."

* * *

_A/N: Sort of a cliffhanger but oh well. I'd rather update this short-ish chapter rather than wait another day. The next chapter will divulge a lot of information about the more spy/espionage-aspect of the fic. (Hopefully. That's the plan anyways.) Review if you please, it would make my day!_


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

* * *

"It looks like our girl, Ms. Waldorf is staying at the Plaza," the woman announced to Dan as he walked into the kitchen. His Brooklyn loft was anything but glamorous, something that the woman was not accustomed to.

"And you know this how?" Dan asked and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl. He bit into it, the juice dribbling down his chin. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, much to the disgust of the woman.

She stared at him in disdain. When was the last time he had showered? His dark curls had become long and greasy. He wore the same pair of sweatpants everyday and occasionally changed his shirt. This wasn't the look of a criminal mastermind, she thought. Instead, he looked like a teenage video gamer. "It's all over the tabloids," she replied casually. "She's with her blonde friend, that socialite Serena van der Woodsen and some other random. They've been partying all week. It didn't take much to find out that she was at the Plaza. A couple dirty martinis will work wonders on those talkative social climbers that hang around them."

Dan snorted. "I almost forgot," he took another bite from his apple. "You were once part of that world."

The woman inspected her nails, noticing the polish had started to chip away. She couldn't remember the last time she had gotten a manicure. "Get off your high horse, will you? I figured out more about her in an hour than you have in weeks!"

"Congratulations," Dan muttered sarcastically. He spit out his half-chewed bite of apple onto the floor and tossed the apple across the counter. "Let me tell you something, I bet you're feeling really good about yourself right about now. You dress up nicely, go to a club, get some girl drunk and she tells you what hotel Waldorf is at? Well, I don't need you to—"

"Oh cut the bullshit," the woman hissed. "So I guess you don't need to know that she and her boy-toy just left the Plaza? At this hour in the morning" I'm willing to bet that they're not going to another party. Good thing I have another car following them right now. How do I know this? There's a guy at the concierge who is on _my _payroll. Don't forget that you'd be nothing without me and my money, Humphrey."

Dan had whipped out his phone and was typing away furiously. He hit send on the text message and looked up. "I'm not getting anything done, you say?" His phone rang and he answered it immediately. "I have a job for you. It's about Ms. Waldorf. Call up your men right now. No, no, don't kill her, just 'roughen' her up a bit."

* * *

"Is this something we have to do at 5am?" Nate rubbed his eyes, yawning. He started a pot of coffee and the smell of freshly brewed coffee was starting to wake him up. He had been woken up abruptly by Chuck's incessant banging and door-bell ringing. "You couldn't have waited, I don't know, five or so hours?"

"No," Blair said quickly. Her hands were shaking slightly and her stomach was doing flip flops. "This is too important to wait," she added, her words getting jumbled. She wasn't sure if her head pounded from her hangover or her present anxiety. She accepted the hot cup of coffee that Nate offered her. The ceramic mug burned her hands but the strong black coffee warmed her insides.

"I've been given permission from the head of MI6 to divulge the details concerning Omni and my assignment in the United Sates," Chuck took a miniature bottle of Baileys Irish Cream that he had stolen from the hotel room's mini bar out of his pocket and poured it into his cup of coffee. He saw through his peripheral vision that Blair was pulling a face and rolling her eyes.

"Bart Bass, right?" Nate nodded. "I heard from someone that you guys call him 'M'?"

"Wait, hold up, Bart Bass?" Blair choked on her drink. Once she had stopped coughing, she turned to Chuck. "Bass as in your..."

Chuck looked down into his mug. "Father, yes," he admitted. "In the loosest sense of the word, as possible." There was a moment of silence, both Nate and Blair sensing Chuck's deep seeded Daddy-Issues. A moment later, though, Chuck looked up, with a crooked, half smile on his face. "Shall we get to work? I'll be needing a computer, Archibald."

Nate disappeared for a few minutes but returned, laptop in hand.

"Your father was a genius," Nate informed Blair, as he opened up a large black laptop. "It's a special CIA prototype," he said, seeing her stare at the machine with a bizarre expression on her face. "It's the future of security computers. You can't hack it, it's virtually undetectable when on the Internet, and has a self-destruct feature that will wipe the entire hard drive clean with no hope whatsoever of recovering any data. Not to mention, it's waterproof."

"Of course I know my father was a genius," Blair huffed. "Where do you think I got my brains from?" She sank into the large white leather couch Nate had in his living room and folded her arms across her chest. "Now tell me about this Omni or whatever."

"Well," Chuck started slowly. "It's a bit of a long story but we have a bit of time before Archibald over there is set up. I'm sure you're aware of your father's history in the technology industry. Well, shortly after his company started to gain recognition, he caught the attention of the CIA. Harold was young and brilliant. They loved him. They gave him a special CIA contract or whatnot so that he could build and design programs just for them. At first, it was simple stuff like creating new databases or writing algorithms to cross check previously known data about certain criminals with several aliases. He did an exceptional job so he started moving onto bigger things. The CIA put him in charge of network security."

Blair sucked in her breath. She knew her father helped the government on occasion but she never imagined him being on the CIA payroll for such a long time. He had an entire career that he kept from her. Had her mother known?

"Harold pretty much did everything concerning security and technology. He encrypted sensitive data, decrypted information that had been intercepted, set up firewalls, hacked into hard drives. He revolutionized the way the CIA operated. Naturally, the CIA wanted to share their fortune with their friends across the pond," Nate continued for Chuck, who was busy typing in something into the computer.

"MI6 was furious for a while that they didn't bother sharing his talents sooner," Chuck snorted. "Anyways, they got your dad to do all the same stuff he did for the CIA. He worked his magic and just when his assignment was complete, he had this new idea. He claimed it would be better than anything else he had done before."

"Let me guess," Blair interjected. "Omni."

Chuck and Nate nodded in unison.

"But what is it?" Blair questioned. She only knew bits and pieces, none of which were making any real sense.

Nate turned the computer towards her. The screen was almost completely black. The word OMNI was in the center of the screen in plain white text. Underneath, there was a small box that required a password.

"Omni was your father's idea to link the different intelligence agencies around the world. It would eliminate the need for couriers, he claimed. Of course, physical packages were a different story but any information could be exchanged wirelessly. Type in the code Y-R-M-3-P-8-E-1-2," Nate instructed.

Blair typed in all the letters and numbers before hitting enter. The screen went black for a second and then the screen changed. There were different headings but they were all in gibberish.

"This is the main portal for Omni. It's quite easy to get in if you have the right code but from here on out, it's extremely difficult to get the proper information without the clearance. Even if you managed to get to the portal, you wouldn't know what any of the links mean because they're also in code."

"I can tell," Blair murmured. She scrolled through the page only to find something very disturbing. "Hey, someone posted the blueprints to my apartment building on here. What is all this?"

"I'm lost," Nate said, his shoulders slumping.

"Some freak tried to rob me. He said I had diamonds or something like that. He attacked me and could've almost killed me!" Blair recounted dramatically.

"Somebody posted the information necessary to rob Blair online," Chuck explained. "It was pretty much an advertisement telling any thug to try and score a couple million in diamonds."

"Wait, how could this guy just post all that information online though? I thought you needed to have a code." Blair was confused. She wasn't used to any of this spy stuff. It was hurting her head.

"It appears that there's been a breach in security."

"And everyone thinks this is the person that might be after me?" Blair asked.

"That's what we think," Chuck added. "We thought the person had managed to hack into the whole program but he just managed to get access to the home page. A bit pathetic, really. He's broken down the first layer of security though, making it easy for any wannabe criminal to have access it. That's how he got the message about the diamonds out."

"We're confident in the security measures your father set in place but it's a bit risky now. We know that this person can hack into system so there's no telling how dangerous they really are. If any of the information on Omni got into the wrong hands…" Nate's voice trailed off. He shuddered at the thought of some terrorist with the most classified information in the world.

"You still haven't really told me what Omni is though," Blair complained.

"It's a website with a program built into it," Nate said. "Your father said it would link the data between agencies in a much faster and easier way. Soon, all the agencies began posting their data on this website. Look, there's a database filled with known and suspected terrorists, criminals, hitmen, you name it. Their profile lists all their known aliases, personal information, and all that fun stuff. But the best part is, whenever an agent from wherever spots one of these bastards, they upload that information onto Omni. After that, it makes it much easier to figure what they're up to and where they're headed."

Nate typed in a few things and showed Blair the page of Cole Blackler, who also worked under the name of David Mathers, Henry Wilkes, and Theodore Quentin, as a killer-for-hire. He specialized in high profile assassinations, was wanted in four countries, and according to Omni, last seen in Peru five days ago. There was a blurry picture of him attached as well.

"Impressive," Blair said. "A bit creepy, but impressive. So it keeps tabs on all these people?"

"Pretty much. Omni allows us to get one step ahead of the enemy and if one country is already tracking him, the latest information another country posts could be crucial to the takedown of said enemy," Nate recited, remembering what he had learned during all his training. "That's just one part of Omni as well. It keeps and shares secrets, warnings, data, tips, everything."

"Like Big Brother then," Blair was still in awe.

Chuck shook his head. "No, no. This makes Big Brother look like child's play. This program knows everything about everyone. It keeps all the countries tied together, whether they like it or not. Unfortunately, as time went on, some countries wanted to pull out but they were in too deep. Now, if one country falls, then we all fall as a result."

"Dominoes," Blair said softly. "So not just shut down the thing if it's become too much of a liability? Surely it didn't take the worlds' brightest to figure out how to contain this beast-of-a-program.

Nate sighed. "It's not that easy. If it were, we would've done it by now."

"That's where you come in," Chuck said. "There's a way to shut down Omni but only your father knew how. We think that you might also know how to shut it down."

Blair held back a laugh. "Thirty minutes ago, I didn't even know what Omni was. Now you want me to shut it down. Isn't there a plug you can pull or something?"

"It doesn't work that way," Chuck said exasperated. "Are you sure there isn't anything your father told you? A code or key of some sort? Anything?"

Blair stood up abruptly. "I don't know anything!" She paced around for a few moments before turning to Chuck and Nate. "I need a minute. I'm going to go to the bathroom." She stormed off and locked herself in the powder room, unable to think properly. Blair contemplated making herself throw up but decided against it. She flushed the toilet without using it and turned on the tap. She let it run for a few minutes while she sank to the floor, leaning against the door.

Her head was throbbing and felt like it was going to explode at any second. They were asking an awful lot of her, weren't they? Blair didn't think it was fair that they had suddenly demanded she shut down Omni or whatever it was. Why couldn't they just get her dad to do it? They told her that he was in some safehouse but surely he had Internet connection there right? If only she could get in contact with him. It would make her life so much easier. Blair's hands ran through her hair, pulling at it. Her headache was getting worse; something that she didn't was possible.

Slowly, she stood up and shut the tap off. She was about to unlock the door when she heard the gunshots.

* * *

"What the fuck was that?" Chuck shouted. Behind him and Nate, there had been a terribly loud noise. It was the sound of bullets coming in contact with glass.

"Holy shit," Nate's body jerked as his head turned to see what was happening. The building had a very large glass window that allowed sun to stream in during the day. There were several bullets lodged in the glass and more were attempting to penetrate the window with each passing second.

"Get down," Chuck said but Nate was two steps ahead of him. He took another peek at the window. "Ballistic glass?" he asked and Nate nodded. "Nice touch," Chuck said approvingly under his breath.

"We should get down to the Armory," Nate said as if wasn't totally obvious. "Once those bastards realize they're not going to get in through the window, it shouldn't be long before they think to use the front door." They started crawling towards Nate's study where the entrance to his secret underground arsenal was.

They had made it to the study and Nate was typing in the first password when they head the piercing sound of glass shattering. They both froze for a second but Nate quickly resumed opening the door.

"Looks like they found a way in," Chuck muttered. "We have to hurry."

* * *

Blair turned off the lights of the bathroom and backed herself into the corner. She closed her eyes and sat curled up in the corner. Was this going to be a regular thing then? Hiding while people outside shot at each other. She figured it would only be a matter of time before she got killed. Waiting was always the worst part.

* * *

_A/N: So... hi! I hope people are still semi-interested in this story. My deepest apologizes for not updating for such a long time. I had a bunch of stuff to deal with in my personal life so it became really hard to write. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, nonetheless. I don't think I'll be able to update much in the next two weeks but I will try my best. Please be patient with me. Thank you all again for your reviews, favorites, alerts, etc. It means the world to me!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

"Where the fuck is Blair?" Chuck remembered suddenly. In the scramble to strap on bulletproof vests and grab as many firearms as possible, Blair had escaped their mind. The gunfire had ceased but it was still hard to know whether the attackers had left or were lurking the hallways. Nate and Chuck knew they were probably waiting for them.

"She said she was going to the bathroom," Nate replied, dropping his voice down to a whisper. Luckily his house was quite large meaning it would be easier to sneak up on whoever had broken in. "Let's find her first," Nate suggested. "I'll lead the way."

Chuck nodded in agreement. They were still in the study, hiding behind a wall right near the door. Nate mouthed "1, 2, 3," before jutting his head towards the door. The pair hesitantly stepped out of the study, Chuck looked left and Nate looked right. Their guns were pointed and their bodies were positioned ready to attack.

Once they saw the coast was clear, Chuck followed Nate as they tiptoed towards the bathroom. They reached the door and Nate motioned for Chuck to enter. Chuck opened the door slightly and squeezed his body through the narrow opening. Nate stood outside, keeping guard. Chuck closed the door behind him as quietly as he could, but the door still made a small slick. Blair looked up immediately.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Chuck tried to keep his voice low. His tone was accusatory but inside, he had been terrified they had gotten to her first.

Blair sprang to her feet. "I could have been killed!" she cried out in disbelief. "Whoever's out there could've come in and shot my brains out in the 428 seconds it took you to get here. So the question is: where the hell were _you_?"

Chuck held up his hand. "Keep your voice down," he warned. He slowly put his hands up, as if he was surrendering. "Just stay calm," he put his gun down and began taking off his bulletproof vest.

"What are you doing?" Blair asked, her arms folding across her chest. Chuck tossed the vest towards her and she reached out to catch it. She held it in her hands awkwardly for a few seconds.

"Well put it on then," Chuck sighed in exasperation, picking up his gun. Blair looked down at the vest and then back up at him.

"B-but what about you?" She pulled the vest over her head, tugging down on it. She heard Chuck laugh. "What's so funny?" she demanded to know.

"They're shooting at you," he reminded her. "Besides, it's my job to protect you, in case you forgot." He was about to turn to her when they heard gunshots again. Blair clamped her hand over her mouth to keep herself from screaming. "Okay, stay here," Chuck. "Stay low and wait for my signal. Then, run back to Nate's study and go downstairs and lock all the doors behind you." He spoke rapidly and Blair nodded, trying to keep up.

"Wait, what's the signal?" she asked.

Chuck turned to her. "You'll know," he said before sneaking out. He closed the door carefully behind him and spotted the wall behind him studded with bullet holes. He didn't spot Nate or any of the intruders. Chuck looked both ways. There was no one. He knocked quietly on the door behind him.

The door opened and Chuck felt Blair's body come up close behind him. "You know how to get to the study, right? Okay, on the count of three, we'll go there together. Move quickly but stay close to me."

"Okay," Blair tried to say but her voice was hoarse.

"1, 2, 3," Chuck said and on his count, they starting making their way down the hallway. They tread lightly, trying not to make too much sound. Every few seconds or so, Chuck would stop and pause, listening for footsteps.

They were starting to reach the end of the hallway when they started to hear the gunfire again. Over the sound of a submachine gun firing bullets rapidly, Chuck and Blair heard three definitive shots, presumably from a shotgun. The other gun stopped firing immediately.

"Don't worry," Chuck whispered to Blair. "Nate can take care of himself." They reached the end of the hallway. There was an option now to turn either right or left. Chuck and Blair had to go right. Chuck checked both ways again. Seeing there was no one there, he let Blair sneak behind him. He kept his arm out in front Blair while following behind her with his other arm, poised and ready to shoot.

They walked down the hallway and reached the study. Blair was about to run in when they heard the sound of running footsteps. Chuck saw someone dressed in all black enter the hallway and he pulled down on the trigger.

The first shot was a hit, the bullet sinking into the would-be attacker's stomach. He fell to the floor with a grunt, his weapon falling out of his hand. "Close your eyes," Chuck said but before Blair had time to ask why, he fired again. At the last second, he aimed for the foot, knowing that it wouldn't kill him. The bullet would shatter all the bones in his foot, causing pain so excruciating, that he would be unable to move. Besides, Chuck figured his shot probably tore through some vital organs. The bastard would bleed to death.

There were more footsteps. Nate was running backwards, pausing every few seconds to fire his gun. He had ditched the pistol he used against the first intruder and picked up the dead man's SMG. As Nate turned down the hallway Chuck and Blair were in, a shooter at his tail, another attacker quietly made his way around the corner at the opposite end of the hallway. He had a good view of Blair, even though her body was partly obstructed by Chuck's. He aimed his gun at her chest, even though he knew she was vested. There had been strict instructions not to kill but how could he shoot her without killing her? He pulled the trigger and watched the bullet whizz by her and puncture through the ground.

Blair shrieked, seeing the hole in the floor appear so close t her. Instantly, Chuck used one hand to push her body into the room while he used his other hand to start shooting. He missed the first time since the shooter ducked behind the wall. The reappeared, shooting as well but this time, Chuck had slid his body inside the room, protecting him from the bullets.

Inside, Blair was still on the floor, having been roughly shoved in. She landed on her knees and hands and her wrists hurt from breaking her fall. She looked up to see Chuck ducking his head in and out of room, checking to see if it was okay to shoot. He reloaded the pistol before stepping out of the room.

Quickly, he stepped out of the room, shooting twice. He hit his target both times, in the center and left side of his chest. The man fell to floor, blood pooling around the body. Chuck whipped around and saw the man that Nate had been shooting against.

Blair watched from inside, having crawled towards the door. She knew it was probably dangerous for her to be there but she couldn't tear her eyes away. She saw Nate stumble backwards and fall to the floor. He clutched at his arm and swore loudly. Chuck fired one final time, hitting the shooter in the forehead. He fell to the floor and then there was silence.

Well, there wasn't any more gunfire. Chuck and Nate were both breathing heavily and Blair was trying not to cry without much success.

"Nate's been shot," she said standing up and rushing to where he was lying down on the floor. "There's so much blood."

"I'll be fine," Nate tried to say but he didn't sound convincing. His arm felt numb and heavy. He attempted to prop himself up on his good arm. His body felt weak.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "Don't be daft, Archibald. You've just been shot in the bloody arm." He turned to Blair. "Your cardigan, take it off," he instructed. "We have to stop the bleeding, fast. You've lost close to a liter of blood now," Chuck got down on his knees next to Nate and pressed his fingers against the wrist of his good arm.

Blair took off the bulletproof vest and tore off the cardigan she was wearing. "Why is he so pale? Is that normal?" She asked shakily. She attempted to fold it up before handing it to Chuck.

Chuck shook his head. "His pulse is weak but fast," he noted. "Come and press the sweater against the wound." He guided Blair's hand to press the cardigan against Nate's arm. "Can you breathe okay?" he asked Nate.

Nate nodded.

"My guess is that it didn't hit the brachial. Damn lucky too, considering you'd be dead if it did." He and Nate laughed. "Hey, keep applying pressure," he told Blair.

Blair was confused. "Wait, what the hell is so funny? Why does everyone keep laughing?" Her voice faltered. "How is any of this funny?" She was on the verge of hysterics, Chuck and Nate could tell.

"Nothing," they said in unison.

"I think I'm going to need a doctor right about now," Nate groaned. "Call the CIA. They'll get a medic and a couple Cleaners here. Just dial 1-300-444 from one of the house phones, it'll link you automatically."

Chuck left to get the phone.

"Are you okay?" Blair whispered. The blood was starting to soak through her cardigan. Tears were starting to form in her eyes. She tried to blink them away quickly. Why did it seem like she was always crying these days? The tears plopped down onto Nate's shirt.

"Hey, hey, don't cry," he said. Blair was embarrassed. He was talking to her as if she were six years old and it just made her cry even harder. "You're safe. I'm fine. It's all okay."

"No, it's not," Blair managed to say before breaking down into sobs.

"Okay, they're on their way," Chuck said, reentering the hallway. He saw Blair crying. "What the hell happened in the thirty seconds I was gone?" he demanded to know.

There was no response though.

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"What does that even mean?" Blair asked bitterly. She refused to make eye contact with Chuck.

"Well you did just kinda have a panic attack," Chuck tried to keep the smirk off his face. Her crying had evolved into a full-blown panic attack. Her heart was racing and her body was shaking. She then proceeded to hyperventilate until she passed out. When she woke up, the medics were there to wrap her in a shock blanket and give her some Valium. She had calmed down quite a bit since and returned to her usual bitchy self.

"I'm fine," Blair finally said. "I'm fan-fucking-tastic."

Chuck chuckled. "Well if the bitch is back, then you must be feeling okay."

Blair felt a smile creep up on her face. "Why aren't you funny?" she smiled sweetly and clapped her hand against Chuck's shoulder. Hard. Chuck grimmaced. "Just so, so, funny."

"Okay, you've made your point," Chuck grit through his teeth. Blair smiled again and loosed her grip on his shoulder. She let her hand slide off her arm. She felt wetness between her fingers. Blood.

"Chuck, you're bleeding," Blair said, reaching out to grab Chuck's arm. The side of his arm was bleeding, a large splotch of blood having soaked through his shirt. Chuck peered over his shoulder.

"Huh, would you look at that. I guess I am," Chuck shrugged. "Must've been grazed by one of the bullets. I'll get it patched up by one of the medic's later."

"How could you be so nonchalant?" Blair was in disbelief. "You killed two people, your friend was shot, _you _were shot... doesn't this affect you at all?"

"It's just another day at the office." Chuck smiled sheepishly. "I wouldn't do it if it was something I detested, y'know?"

"All this shooting and fighting? I can't believe it. You get off on this, don't you? It's like a rush, some sort of game-"

Chuck's expression went dark. "Now, listen. Don't think for a second that I take any of this as a 'game.' Yeah, it's a rush. Wouldn't you feel it with all that adrenaline. I don't play with people's lives. Think what you want about me but just not _that. _I'm going to go get some bandages."_  
_

* * *

"We have to go out tonight," Serena announced. She was waiting in the Plaza lobby and holding a cardboard tray of Starbucks. For the normal people who hadn't been up since 4am, the morning was just starting to get on its way. It was barely 8.

Blair didn't say anything. She accepted her grande skinny dry cappuccino and took a long sip. She wondered if it was noticeable that her usually-perfect brown hair that was pulled up in a ponytail had specks of dried blood in it. She had scrubbed her hands trying to get all the blood off. Nate's blood. Chuck's blood. Just so much damn blood.

"Why?" Chuck reached out for one of the cups of coffee. He borrowed a shirt of Nate's but it didn't fit right. He was shorter and broader than Nate, resulting in a rather tight-fitting shirt. He was sick of this going-out, getting drunk routine.

"We were invited to a club opening. Brand new, owned by Kikki Richards. He's so in right now, it's ridiculous. Anyways, everyone's going to be there and we have to make an appearance."

"Ugh, I hate him though," Blair complained. "He's so pretentious and he talks like he's so thug or whatever but I know for a fact that he went to Harvard-Westlake. It's like everyone forgets that when the talks about the 'drug deals he witnessed from his bedroom window.' The only deals they're doing in that gated-community of his was probably some Adderall."

"Well sometimes we have to hang around people we don't like," Serena reminded her. Blair shot a look at Chuck who made a face back. Blair looked away quickly, grinning. "I like him. Did you know, he might be on Broadway?"

"I don't want to think about that nasally voice of his singing. Can we just go grab some food now? My head hurts and I need an English muffin, fast."

_A/N: Okay, so. Like I said in my last update, it's been about two weeks. Sorry about that. After this, I'm hoping to at least get in a new chapter up every three days (at the very latest.) Sorry for the awkwardness of this chapter with the jumping around, especially at the end bit there. I feel weird ending it there but I'm going to try some a bit different with the formatting next chapter. Thanks again for reading and review, will ya? _

_x_

_THR_


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer: I do not own anything._

* * *

"Is this all part of your master plan then?"

"If I'm not forgotten, this was all your master plan, am I right?"

"Oh shut up, will you? I'm not the one in jail."

_2 hours earlier._

_"See, it wasn't that bad," Serena giggled. "Kikki promised to send us a case of Dom, your fave!" Serena had taken advantage of the free-flowing champagne. She stumbled a litte but refused Blair's help; she insisted on walking by herself. _

_"If it's the 95, I don't care who it's from!" Blair laughed as well. She thought that it was obvious that Kikki Richards had tried way too hard to impress. Caged dancers hanging from the ceiling? Only employing 6'4 eastern European bartenders? The crowd was decent but mostly filled with NYC B-listers, like Penelope Shafai and all of Kikki's inner circle. There was a certain thrill to being with New York's It Girl. Or former It Girl, since Blair had unofficially dethroned Serena. Blair's fashion designer mother had elevated her status much higher than Serena's well bred, wealthy parents ever could. "Just promise me we don't ever have to come back!"_

_"It was pretty awful, wasn't it," Serena whispered in Blair's ear. They were still near the entrance of the club and the paparazzi were notorious for their eavesdropping skills. "Off we go then. Where shall we head next?"_

_"You're so drunk right now, aren't you?" Blair sighed. She hadn't been able to drink very much. Just a flute of champagne. She was sick of all the hangovers. Her head hurt too much lately._

_Serena pinched her thumb and index finger together. "Just a wee bit. Look, Blair, there's still a line to get in." It was just past one in the morning but sure enough, there was still a line of people hoping to get into the club. Mostly guys and a few girls. They were dressed in itty bitty dresses, much too little clothing for the weather and stared at Blair and Serena with jealous looks on their faces._

_"Could it look anymore like they're sucking on lemons?" Blair asked smugly. "Let's go. Their desperation is putting a damper on my mood."_

"If you'd just listen to me, you'd know-"

"Don't talk anymore. I don't like listening to things that aren't of importance to me."

"You're a self-centered little brat, you know?"

"Tut, tut. You're already in enough trouble as is. Don't give those nice policemen over there a reason to lock you up forever."

"Nothing's going to happen to me. I'll be out of here in the next half hour, you'll see."

"Don't hold your breath."

_"Where's Chuck?" Serena mumbled and collapsed into Blair's arms. She laughed as Blair stumbled to catch her._

_"Let's get you home," Blair said, wrapping an arm around Serena, propping her up._

_There was a loud noise- the sound of a fist colliding with a face- and the collective gasp that came from the girls waiting in line. Blair felt something trying to grab at her dress. _

_"What the hell," Blair hissed, trying to look behind her. It was difficult to do with Serena already leaning on her. _

_Her eyes grew wide at the sight of Chuck's body hunched over someone else's, his fist going up and down, punching and hitting. The man managed to wrestle his way out from under Chuck's body and had started to punch back. A crowd was starting to gather around them, mostly half-wasted guys cheering a juvenile "fight! fight!"_

_"What's happening?" Serena whined. She didn't like all the yelling. _

_"It's Chuck."_

"It's been twenty eight minutes," Blair informed Chuck after nearly half an hour of silence. "And from the looks of it, you're going to be in here a lot longer than you anticipated."

"You know, I can hear you smirking over there."

"Where?" Blair asked innocently. "You mean out here, not in the jail cell?" She stopped smirking though. She had found herself smirking quite a lot recently and she blamed Chuck. Blair was sitting in a hard wooden chair right next to the holding cell Chuck currently locked in. She sat staring straight ahead. A thick wall separated the two.

Inside the cell, Chuck was slumped against the wall that separated them, facing the opposite side of the cell. "I said half an hour. Last time I checked, that's thirty minutes, not twenty eight. And by the way, it's only been twenty seven minutes. The clock over there says so."

"You're ridiculously petty."

"And you're not?"

_"Hey, break it up, break it up!" _

_The club bouncers had finally made their way over to where Chuck and the anonymous man were fighting. Chuck was no longer on the floor but standing, his foot pressing the guy's face into the pavement. _

_"Get off him," one of the bouncers said, his voice shaking a bit. Chuck was rather imposing and he didn't seem like the guy to piss off. Chuck backed away willingly, a look of disgust on his face. He rolled out his shoulder a few times, as if he'd just come off from playing a rigorous round of squash, rather than beating a man to a pulp. _

_Another bouncer helped the other man to his feet who was bleeding and drunk. "Hey man, are you alright?" all the bouncers were nervous. It was opening night and they didn't need some brawl ruining it. They had missed the camera flashes that had gone off as every person whipped out their phones to take pictures and record the fight._

_"Does he need a hospital?" someone called out. "What about a concussion?"_

_"Ey, somebody over here said they called the police!"_

_The bouncers groaned. "Now you've gone and done it. Everybody back up, get back in line. There's nothing to see here people."_

"Chuck Bass, you're free to go," a gruff police officer came up to the holding cell and unlocked the door. He swung the metal door open, and gestured sarcastically for Chuck to exit.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Blair jumped up from her seat the same time Chuck jumped out to stroll out of his cell. His hands were stuffed in the pockets of the bright orange jump suit that had been graciously provided by the Police Department of the City of New York and his chin was jutted high.

"Twenty nine minutes," Chuck announced proudly. "And they say Americans aren't punctual," he added which garnered a weird look from the police officer.

Blair stormed off, rolling her eyes while another police officer handed him his normal clothes. Chuck grinned and just shook his head.

_"We're going to need to take you two down to the station," a tall and burly police officer informed Chuck and the man he had just beaten up. _

_"Wait, what?" Blair nearly shouted, still trying to keep Serena standing. _

_"Ma'am, I'm going have to ask to step aside," another shorter and fatter police officer informed. "Ma'am, please calm down."_

_"Ma'am?" Blair didn't think she'd ever been so offended. "Tell me Officer Clancy, is my _friend _over there being arrested."_

_"Ma'am, there's been a fight, we're just going down to the station to sort everything out to make sure no crimes have been committed. Ma'am, I don't want to have to take you in for disorderly conduct..."_

_"Blair, calm down, it's fine. Just meet me at the precinct," Chuck tried to say. _

"Okay, I get it, you're a master at pulling strings. Bravo. Now let's go," Blair said monotonously. She started to walk out of the station.

"Blair, wait up, just let me explain!"

"Why should I?" Blair called back, out the door and storming down the street.

Chuck groaned but chased after her nonetheless. He was surprised to see how far she had made it down the road, especially in her heels. He jogged behind her and grabbed her wrist gently. Blair spun around with such speed and fury that she almost knocked down Chuck in the process.

"So then, go on. Explain yourself. What on earth possessed you to beat that poor man up?" Blair wasn't usually so sympathetic to the victims but in this case, with Chuck as the perpetrator, it seemed appropriate.

Chuck opened his mouth but Blair interrupted him. "Was he planning to attack me?

"No."

"Was he planning to attack you?"

"No."

"Did you suspect that he posed a legitimate threat to my wellbeing?"

"No."

"So if he wasn't going to attack neither you nor me, why on God's earth was it so that you had to nearly kill the guy!"

Blair started to walk away again.

"Bla-ir," Chuck said, drawing out her name into two syllables. "Will you just fucking listen to me?" He grabbed her again and spun her around. "Listen, so I beat the man up. But I didn't hit him in his jaw or anywhere dangerous. Well, i did bust his lip open but he still has all his teeth. And maybe I hit him in the eye once... or twice.. but for the most part, I avoided all the worst spots to get punched: neck, chin, jaw, cheekbone, nose..."

"What do you want me to say? Good job? You only beat the man half to death? I saw you hit the man in the head. They had to check and make sure he didn't have a concussion."

Chuck shook his head. "Blair, listen to me. I'm specially trained in all sorts of fighting and martial arts. I hit him in the forehead, one of the strongest parts of our head. It's the best place to get hit, if at all," he gently knocked his knuckle against Blair's forehead for demonstration.

"So why'd you do it then?" she demanded. She swatted at Chuck's hand.

He sighed. "To roughen him up a bit. Trust me, if I wanted him dead, he'd be dead."

"You still haven't told me why you hit him. Why you decided that it was a good time to take a two hour trip to the station so I could watch you get booked- finger prints, mug shot, the whole damn show- only to have you make a phone call and be released half an hour later."

Chuck rested his hands on both of Blair's shoulders and shook her gently, as if trying to knock some sense into her. "You're forgetting that Chuck Bass, the American civilian, doesn't exist. Normally MI6 has a "get caught, you're on your own" policy but they make their exceptions. Sure I had to go through the process of being arrested but you don't think I'd actually go to jail, did you?"

"Well it seemed like you were going to," Blair confessed, her voice softer. Chuck's grip on her shoulders slackened and his arms drooped down.

"I'll admit that he wasn't trying to attack you but..."

Blair peered up at him, waiting for an answer.

"He was being an ass." Chuck coughed awkwardly. "He was being a complete douche, really."

"Chuck," Blair said sternly. "Get to the point, will you?"

"He was going to hit on you, okay?" Chuck's arms dropped to his side. "He was being a dick, saying all these... these nasty things. I wasn't going to do anything until the wanker reached out to grope you." Chuck fell silent.

"So that's it then?" Blair tried to keep in her laughter. "You beat him up because he was going to hit on me?"

"Why are you laughing?" Chuck sputtered, his face going red.

"I suppose I should be saying thank you," Blair smiled, teasing him. She threw her arms around Chuck's neck. "Thank for you for defending my honor?" she cocked an eyebrow.

He could see the sarcasm on her face and the joking twinkle in her eye. Damn girl was making fun of him. "Sorry for trying to protect you from perverts," he replied hotly but Blair just kept laughing.

"I've had strange men hit on me since the day I turned fifteen," Blair said with an odd tone of pride in her voice. "So should I expect the Queen to be calling anytime soon? I'm assuming you'll be knighted."

Chuck pulled back. "Now you're just being mean," he said, a look of mock horror on his face.

Their laughter rang in the night air and it died down after a few minutes. There was a moment of quietness and for a second, Blair thought Chuck was leaning in... it was impossible though, was he really leaning in to kiss her? What was she supposed to do? Kiss him? Turn her head? She told the voice inside her head to shut up because _holy shit his face was so close now._

Blair's eyes squeezed shut. After a moment of not feeling his lips meet hers, she opened her eyes. His face had frozen centimeters away from hers. She held her breath as he kept his face there, right in front of hers but not going in. Wait, was he not going to kiss her then? Blair's mind was a mess. She felt a large drop of water plop onto her nose. She looked up.

Rain.

They sky had turned gray, even in the blackness of night and thunder was starting to rumble in the distance. The rain started to pour down, like someone turned on a switch.

"Great," Chuck muttered. "The rain." He abruptly pulled his face away from Blair's and her tense body relaxed. It was raining, hard. Chuck quickly took off his coat and threw it over Blair. "Come on then, let's go," he shouted through the downpour as he grabbed her hand, pulling her along.

_A/N: Hello, it's me again. No, I didn't drop off the face of the earth. Here is chapter 13 though, what, two/three weeks late? Thanks a million to everyone who stuck around for the last chapter, I hope this one was good too. Just thank you so much to all the people who read this and are reading this right now. I'm surprised that there is still interest in this story, haha. I don't have a bullshit excuse for not updating except that my life has been pretty crazy. It's calming down now, for real so I hopefully I'll be able to write more._

_Some people have said that it feels like Chuck/Blair don't even like each other so hopefully this had some playful banter that made their relationship seem love-hate rather tan hate-hate. Hey, there was an almost-maybe-possible kiss stuck in at the end!_

_The next chapter will be some major Chuck/Blair bonding and some drama added in for some fun. I'll be going into Chuck's history quite a bit, so if there's anything in particular you'd like to know about this 009-Chuck I've invented, tell me in the reviews._

_Leave a review if you feel so inclined!_

_xoTHR_


End file.
